Tin Foil and Gun Powder
by Im-Ina-Tent
Summary: She was the last person he ever expected to see again. But he was secretly glad he did.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, hope I didn't keep those of you who read my previous story waiting too long. I figured showing how they came to what they did would make for a good prologue. Make sure you review with anything you'd like to see in the future, ways I can improve, and just anything you like to I suppose! ENJOY!

…,,,…

6:00 p.m. Los Angeles, California.

"So uh, boss..." A nervous looking Jack Neylon faltered when he saw a young boy, couldn't be any older than 15, was standing in the front door (or at least what they considered to be the front door) of their own hideout. He could hardly look at the kid without promptly looking away. He was just scary. Not exactly beefy and probably not even armed, but his very presence seemed threatening. His eyes were an icy cold, light blue color, full of hostility. Other than that he wasn't very scary. He had cropped blonde hair, longer than most young boys and was wearing peculiar clothing for a 15 year old, black leather pants and a dark colored vest, with what looked like a cross necklace. He couldn't help but wonder what was a young, catholic boy doing at the 'front door' of a Mafia hideout?

"What is it?" A particularly annoyed Rod Ross set down his half full glass of tequila to finally acknowledge the somewhat panicked subordinate.

"Th-th-..." Jack stuttered, and when he managed to risk a glance at the boy standing in front of him with his arms suddenly crossed and his eyebrows raised he felt a rush of embarrassment. Here he was, a certified member of the L.A. Mafia, with a gun in his back pocket, cowering and stuttering in front of a 15-year-old kid. The irritation in Rod's voice wasn't helping matters either.

"Well? Spit it out already." Rod's voice made Jack wince, and with that the blonde raised his head slightly, gesturing a superior stance. He wouldn't look like that if he knew I had a gun in my pocket, Jack thought.

"Th-there's a kid here to see ya..." The kid took a small step forward, obviously not wanting to waste time, but Jack stood his ground and didn't move. Blondie gave a fierce look and sneered.

"A kid? You're joking... well alright, let 'em in." Blondie came in quickly and looked eager to get down to business, whatever that would be. In fact, he actually walked over to one of the zebra printed couches and sat down, putting his feet up on the table. Apparently, Rod found this to be funny, and gave a small laugh.

"You sure got nerve kid. But what is a kid like yourself doing at a place like this?" Rod peered at him through narrowed eyes, though his smile was sickenly good-hearted. Jack knew that look; he was thinking about getting a new pawn he could use for his own personal game. Jack knew that, because that was the same way he looked at him when they first met.

"I'd like to talk to you about a deal..." At this Rod's ears perked up, as they always did when someone mentioned the world "deal". His smile widened.

"... I'll find any mob you want and lead you to unimaginable power, and in return you give me full protection." Jacks mouth fell open at the kid's statement, and Rod let out a hearty laugh that even startled the girl sitting intimately next to him a little. The kid just sat there, looking unamused and took a surprisingly loud bit of his chocolate bar- wait a minute, since when did he get a chocolate bar? Who carries chocolate bars around with them?

"I like you. What's your name kid?" Rod's eyes were a mixture of hunger and amusement, while the kid's were... well, he really couldn't tell.

"You can just call me Mello." Mello. That was, literally, the weirdest name he had ever heard, and he knew some kids from people who had gone to Woodstock.

"Well than, you can just call me boss. But don't think we're gonna go easy on ya just cause you're a kid. You can go right back out on those streets if you can't live up to what you just said." Rod stood up, and motioned for the kid- err, Mello to follow. He led him to the monitor Roy was currently glued to, and nodded to him. Jack walked over, but stayed a ways away from Mello. He wasn't sure whether or not that kid was very trustworthy. In fact, he seemed to be even scarier than Rod, with those eyes and demeanor.

"This is the guy we've been trying to track. But I'm tellin' ya kid, it's impossible." Rod looked at the kid skeptically before glancing back at the picture Roy had just brought up with coldness in his eyes.

"I figured that much. I did a little research and came up with the address of his current hideout. It's actually not that far from here, which is probably why he's been able to kill so many of your subordinates in such a short amount of time." He said matter-of-factly. Rod gave him a strange look. It had finally hit them that this kid had actually chosen their gang specifically, and had really done his research.

"Well what is it?" Rod said in a menacing tone that made even Jack's eyes widen. Mello's, however, remained calm and surreal. It was almost disturbing.

Mello gave the address and Rod made Roy and Skyer check it out. In the meantime, Rod tried to pry as much as he could out of Mello, though the stubborn kid wouldn't budge. In fact, he probably got more out of Rod than Rod did Mello. Jack started to get the idea that Mello was actually manipulating him instead of the other way around, but Jack knew that was impossible. This was just some kid, and Rod was a Mafia boss. If Mello ever crossed Rod it was over for him. If there was one thing Rod was known for it was for his seemingly endless connections. They'd find Mello in an hour, and make him pay. _Though I doubt that kid would ever do something as stupid as that_, Jack thought. He sure sounded smart, and he most definitely knew the terms.

"So, Mello," Rod was starting, capturing the boy's attention just as he took a strangely loud and rather dramatic bite of his chocolate bar.

"just how old are you, anyway?" he asked, gulping down the rest of his tequila and wrapping his arm around the beautiful young girl at his side.

"Seventeen." He stated and Rod grinned. _What the hell is a sixteen-year-old doing at a Mafia hideout asking for deals?_

"Well what're ya doing here? Shouldn't you be in school? How can you be smart if you aren't in school?"

"It's a long story, but I assure you, my intellect will be far more than adequate." Mello stated, with a hint of determination behind his voice.

"Yeaaah, okay. But if Roy and Skyer get busted you're gonna be in a lot of trouble." Rod narrowed his gaze at the apparent young _man_, though he sure didn't look as old as seventeen.

"Understandable." He stated, taking another bite.

"So you have any friends or family who might be looki-" Rod's question was interrupted by Roy, who had crashed through the door with Skyer not far behind, grinning like madmen. Which they were.

"Boss… we found the address the kid gave us… we got him… he's dead… we weren't followed or nothin'. Roy was saying everything in between breaths while Roy was doubled over, acting like he was having an asthma attack.

"Well what d'ya know, the kid's useful!" Roy exclaimed, standing up before walking over to Mello and shaking his hands.

Ever since then, Rod had used Mello's intellect while Mello used Rod's resources. Much to Jack's dismay.

…,,,…

"L-Linda ma'am, there's been an intruder… w-we think they're aiming for the hard drive." Halle Lidner sighed at the obviously flustered recruit. She doubted it was anything she couldn't handle. Instead she started tapping at the keys to the main computer kept in the security section of the prison. Though it was usually people trying to get out instead of in, problems like these were hardly ever difficult and the only struggles she faced with them were all of the overreactions of recruits.

"Don't worry about it, this shouldn't be too difficult. Just stay calm and monitor the suspected section." She tried saying it with a soothing voice to try and calm the nervous recruit beside her.

"R-right." Halle was soon taken aback, however, when she realized the firewall has already been broken through. That was no easy task. She started to tap rather loudly on the keys then, mostly out of irritation. 

"Mrs. Linder, there's been another report in the G-block section. Three officers down." A male, and much more experienced (not too mention more calm) officer reported to Halle not long after she had actually received a virus and she herself was actually starting to panic. This was too much at once.

"Have the area restricted and send immediate backup." Halle reported, trying her best to stop the virus, but only managing to slow it slightly.

"Ma'am, we have received an indication of where the first intruder is. We have sent immediate backup." Halle nodded quickly, still too busy slamming her fists on the keyboard only to no avail. Whoever these people were, she was almost positive they'd done it before.

"I'm going to check it out myself, you two stay here and try to eliminate the virus." Halle quickly stood up and pulled out her gun, which was required. Without hearing a response she ran down out of the dark security room and sprinted through the halls of C-block until she came to a quick shortcut she discovered while doing her little "side-job". G-block had more turns than C-block did and it was dark. That was the other unusual thing, they weren't trying to break anyone out, and most people had the common sense not to look for classified information at a prison. With officers around every corner. Although, they were starting to become rather relaxed lately, not much went on here.

She finally came across a large computer room that was completely empty, save for her and the intruder. She couldn't see them because the lights were off and turning them on would mean she'd be vulnerable for a split 5 seconds, and she couldn't allow that. Instead, she pointed her gun at the dark shadow and threatened.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head!" The figure didn't stir. Said figure seemed unusually small, and shorter than usually. It was also skinnier, and Halle guessed that it could be actually be female. Not to mention young.

"Look, you haven't done anything crucially punishable yet. I'm sure that if you stop this now, you can get off easy." Halle tried to sound as reasonable as possible, and even lowered her gun a little. The officers that had been injured weren't dead, or even had any major injuries. In fact, they'd been shot in the ankles. Still a bad wound, but nothing they couldn't completely heal from in a few months.

"Hm." She heard a few clicks and soon realized her mistake; by lowering her weapon, she'd been left vulnerable and the intruder hadn't even dropped their weapon. Thinking quickly she dropped down behind a nearby desk and literally felt the whiz of the bullet fling pant her hand. _They're aiming for my hand_, she thought. It made sense, get rid of what's holding the gun and you get rid of the gun. _What an accurate shot._

"You leave me no choice but to shoot!" Halle took a chance and peeked her head a little ways about the desk and peered around for the shadow that was her enemy. She managed to find her in the corner but soon had to duck when she heard another loud ban

g. She could have sworn she lost a few hairs after that last bullet. She took a gamble and shot over the edge of the desk and towards where she thought she heard the bullets come from. The only sound she heard was metal against metal. She knew she wouldn't be able to get an accurate shot unless she was actually able to see who she was shooting at.

"Why are you doing this?" Halle doubted she'd receive an answer, but like several times earlier that day, things didn't exactly go how she had expected them to.

"Because its necessary." The voice was definitely female, and a little higher than Halle's. The sudden voice caused her to look over, and doing so she managed to catch sight of the intruder. She was blonde, she couldn't tell how blonde, but it was darker than hers. She couldn't catch the color of her eyes. She was somewhat tan, and had a lean face and figure. She was wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a faded red plaid shirt underneath an extremely long dark green trench coat. You could tell even in the dark it had been worn from years of use.

She didn't get too long to evaluate, however. The girl leaped onto the desk in front of her on her hands and turned with her gun pointed at me specifically. Halle felt a sharp pain on her hand and the gun quickly flew across the room towards the girl, who quickly jumped off the desk and grabbed it, running out the door and down the hall afterwards.

Halle could only sit there, clutching her bleeding hand and and cursing up a storm.

"Ma'am, the intruders managed to escaped. The only thing we were able to identify was a white-haired man who we suspect implanted the virus." A voice sparked up from her ear piece. The news made Halle curse even more.

"Did they get to the hard drive?" Halle asked, though she already knew the answer. There weren't too many officers in the building and she was rather positive the girl could've gotten past any recruits posted around the hard drive. She just wished the area surrounded the hard drive which carried so much classified information mainly revolving around criminal incidents in foreign countries would've been more heavily secured. The throbbing in her hand distracted her from her thoughts. Maybe she should just switch her "side-job" to "fulltime-job".

The one thing that did seem out of the ordinary to Halle, however, was the rosary bracelet she saw tucked inside one of the inside pockets of the girl's trench coat.


	2. Chapter 2: Sleeping Pills

Back from the dead. Anyway, **MUST READ. IF YOU HAVE NOT YET READ MY PREVIOUS STORY "VULNERABLE", THEN DO SO IMMEDIATELY. SERIOUSLY, READ THAT ONE BEFORE YOU READ THIS ONE. Kthnxbye.**

..,,..

"Guys, we're kidnapping Sayu Yagami." Jack heard Mello's surprisingly deep (for a young man's) voice and nearly sputtered out the alcohol he was currently swallowing. Wasn't Sayu Yagami just a kid?

"What, she turn you down?" Mello gave him a harsh glare, though his facial expression didn't change much. Mello didn't like talking about his love life. Though most people in the mafia didn't.

"I'm just jokin Mello. We know why you want her. We're not stupid." Jack was taken aback when Mello's gaze shifted to him, and his eyebrow raised a fracture of an inch. Since it would in fact prove his point Jack merely looked away, unable to match a glare of Mello's caliber.

"We can take her when she's working. Here's the address. Since you'll probably mess it up, I'll be going with you. Here's the plan; we leave early, go to her workplace, cut a circuit causing the fire alarm to go off as soon as she leaves her cubicle and is isolated, surround her, and bring her out back. Make it look like you're rescuing her in case of any bystanders. Do I make myself clear?"

"Well sure, but what's with it being so elaborate?" Rod asked, unsure whether or not this was the best plan of action for a Mafia boss to take.

"I have my own reasons for that. Don't question it." His eyes took on an unfamiliar tone as he visible tensed. But only for a moment, and he was back to the nonchalant position he was accustomed to using. It bugged Jack, really. Here was this kid, who could very well be some high school dropout, being treated like the greatest thing their gang could ever gain. Though, as much as it pained him to admit it, he probably was. They had gotten more money and an even higher status in the last 2 years than they had since Rod created the gang. _The year I first joined, _he thought to himself with a scowl.

"Okay guys, we're heading out." Rod finally told them after a few tense moments of pausing and thinking. The rest of the gang loaded their guns and shoved them in their back pockets. Though Mello's plans never failed, and they literally never failed, it would be interesting to feel that smooth rush of adrenaline again. Jack, and the rest of the gang, have been pretty relaxed these past three weeks, seeing as how the only people who were sent out to do stuff were Roy and Skyer. Roy had been injured due to his stupidity and couldn't come, and when he found out what they were doing he started swearing up a storm. Jack, who would have been happy to have Roy go instead, was to take his place. Needless to say, as any situation with Mello involved, he was a mess of nerves.

…,,,…

"CL, I want you to help me with something." Auguste Benjamin Agnes said while currently looking through familiar computer files.

"Hm? That's odd. You usually like to do things by yourself." A smooth female voice came as his reply. He looked over to the nineteen-year-old woman. Her long blonde hair was put up in a ponytail, as always, and her hazel eyes looked at him questionably. She had on a red plaid shirt and dark denim jeans. Her long dark green jacket had been discarded on the floor next to her. Her eyes were half lidded in a rather bored look, which he was almost a little sad to say he saw a lot. He also had to admit that it was, partly his fault for her being so bored all the time, but insisted that in time it would be surely worth it.

"You know, you really do need a new jacket." She seemed to be a bit irritated by his statement.

"Yeah, actually, I've been telling you that for past few weeks."

"Can't you afford your own?" She looked away abruptedly and closed her eyes.

"I've been… busy."

"Yeah, well, I need you to come with me to this address." CL stood up and walked over, peering at the computer screen facing the 25-year-old male in front of her.

"Hm? Isn't that the workplace of Sayu Yagami? Chief Yagami's daughter?"

"Is it? I had no idea."

"So why are we going there, exactly?"

"An old friend of mine is going there today, and I thought it'd be nice to drop in and say

'hi'." He smiled when he said this. The person he wanted to see was by no means an old friend. A person of his status could most definitely not be seen with a mafia boss. Or at least, a mafia boss like him. Rod was a smart man with many connections, but he wasn't quite "professional" as Auguste would prefer.

"Fine. Should I be armed?"

"Yes." Auguste answered quickly, taking CL aback a bit.

"Well okay, if you say so…" Auguste threw her the dark gray revolver she was so accustomed to using and jammed his own gun in the pocket of his jacket. This would be some of the most fun he'd had in a long time.

…,,,…

"Heh, I feel just like I did in middle school when we'd do this as a prank." Muttered Jack while he yanked the fire alarm, causing shrill sirens to go off all across the building. Mello resisted the rather powerful urge of rolling his eyes at the immaturity of his "acquaintance", and fell back into the shadows as several staff members ran passed him, all looking for the nearest exit. Mello had secretly had Matt go up on the ceiling and blow off a smoke bomb to make it seem realistic. Obviously, people were going to try to avoid overtime as often as they could, and would stay until they knew for sure that this was not a drill, and there was an actual fire. Most would get calls from other staff, who had made it outside and were now staring at the large cloud of smoke wafting upwards, saying that there was indeed a fire, and that they needed to get the fuck out before burning to death.

He couldn't help but smirk. In this section of town it would definitely be a while before any firemen or policemen would show up. They would get an hour, most likely more, which was more than enough time to kidnap a defenseless young girl.

_So long as there are no hindrances,_ he thought. No, 'hindrance' just didn't sit right with him. Actually, he had a strange feeling about this whole plan. As though something he won't be expecting would jump out right in front of him at that very moment. Which was crazy, because his plans were always perfect. Especially if he was there to ensure the correct execution of his plans.

_We're just kidnapping some chick. Its not like she has a bodyguard or something._

"BOSS. Boss come quick!" Mello managed to make out Skyer's voice, in between pants and a few cracks, sounding as though, wouldn't you believe it, something completely unexpected had happened.

"What." Mello demanded, not wanting to waste time if it truly was as important as Skyer was making it out to be.

"T-there's this guy… and DAMN is he good with a gun… and I think there's another one, quite a bit smaller… but they got away. I think they were heading to one of the top floors." Skyer managed to spit out, and Mello frowned. If he's good with a gun, that means someone had to have gotten shot. That means blood. Which means tracing.

Not good.

"Jack, you go with Skyer and try to hold whoever the guy with the gun is. I'll go upstairs and deal with the other one." He ordered, seriously wishing he had a bar of chocolate with him right now.

"But Mel-er, sir," Jack stuttered, looking rather defeated and pathetic. Why anyone would want to join the Mafia when they're scared of even the possibility of their own death.

"_Now._" Mello ordered, narrowing his glare until he felt certain he could burn holes through the imbecile's flesh.

Skyer, already making his way back down the stairs to the oncoming attacker, grabbed Jack by his jacket sleeve and yanked him along. Possibly to his own death. The thought made Mello smirk.

But this was no time to be distracted. He had get upstairs and find whoever was with the gunman. Hopefully, they weren't as skilled, or better yet, not even armed.

Mello quickly made his way to the elevator and tapped the '^' button. The doors opened and he wasn't surprised to see disheveled papers sprawled across the floor of the small elevator room. It sure had a small capacity, he thought, even for an elevator. The doors opened and he was even more surprised at how narrow the hallways seemed. Papers were strewn about everywhere, not surprising considering the large amount of people who work there. It almost seemed out of place for it to be so quiet.

He took a step out, only to hear footsteps and to lean even further out, before running outside to stop the opposing force. This was incredible stupid, and he was glad no one came with him. He collided with whoever was running, and they both fell down on the cold floor before them. Their heads both hit the side wall due to the narrow hallway, and he couldn't help but let out a short groan.

He landed on top, and the person below let out a hiss of pain. Eventually he lifted himself and crawled backwards with a kick of his foot against the wall, and quickly pulled out his gun from his red jacket. He pointed it at the offender, whoever he- no wait, she- was.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, trying to get a better look at the woman laying on the floor. She lifted her head up and looked at him through very light, green- or maybe blue- eyes. Eyes he's sure he's seen before. She had a black jacket on, with a black shirt underneath and dark, tight jeans. She lifted herself up calmly, as though this wasn't the first it had happened. Her blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, with bangs framing her face and a few hairs were freed from impact.

It was all so familiar.

He sat there, and his gun dropped to the floor. His eyebrows furrowed, unsure of whether he was just going crazy or if he was caught up in one hell of a coincidence. She was staring back at him as though thinking the same thing, and without even thinking, he broke the silence.

"I had one hell of a time sleeping, ya know."

..,,..

Sorry to the people who actually read this who now probably have no idea whats going on because they forgot everything in the first one because its been so long since I've updated. Yeah sorry about that. I'll try not to take so long next time.

Big thank you to anyone who reviewed, and please review, because that motivates to get the next chappy out. Same with those who favorited, followed, ect. If you have any suggestions or **anything you want to see in the next chapter, (if its not too ridiculous I will try my very best to fit it in (come on people please give me these),** PM me or tell me in a review~


	3. Chapter 3: Pistol Whipped

"…What?" All CL could really manage to do was sit there and look around frantically before simply staring and the unmoving figure before her. He hadn't changed, not that much. Except the leather. Which was fine with her.

"Why are you here?" Of course, always calm in even the most unexpected scenario, that she envied in him.

"I'm here because Auguste wants me to be here." A rather shitty answer, but hey.

"Okay.. Then why does Auguste want to be here?" He sounded a bit irritated, though he almost always did. She couldn't remember a single time in her life when his voice dropped all irritation. Only when he would occasionally snore in his sleep, and that wasn't much like talking.

"I don't know… something about this Rod guy?" At this Mello's eyes narrowed. This was his plan, and he couldn't let anybody mess it up. But she was much better with a gun than he was. The only thing he could hope for was to overpower her in strength. He was stronger, slightly smarter, and had numbers on his side. She was faster, unpredictable, and had Auguste Agnes completely on her side. They were one hundred percent even.

As rare of a moment this one, he was going to take his chances.

He lunged at her, going in for the element of surprise, getting a grip on her shoulders as she desperately gripped his arms, trying to catch her off balance. They squirmed around a bit until he could finally get her pinned down to the floor by shoving her rather roughly, and pointing his gun. He'd never shoot, never in a million years. But after what he just did? She probably would.

He tried backing up as fast as he could before she pulled some kind of trick, but had underestimated her speed and how much longer her legs had grown since they'd last met. She'd managed to kick his hand hard enough for the gun to fly across the hallway and down a flight of stairs. He turned at her and gave her a look, before taking off. He may be slower, but she was still on the floor. He made it down the flight of stairs directly across the hallway with her right on his heel, and just turned the corner. When he had expected to finally be caught, she let out a yelp the sound of body meets floor echoed throughout hall.

Apparently one of the mafia members had been waiting, and let him pass, while striking CL the second she turned the corner.

"What the hell are you doing?" The mafia member (he didn't even know his name) seemed taken aback, and for a good reason. He could've just saved his life!

"Helping you escape is what I'm doing!" He shouted back, and gripped Mello's shoulder rather roughly before yanking him along the hallway.

CL had just about had it. First, being shoved on the floor. Second, being pistol whipped. In the face. Third, once more, falling on the floor. She had wanted to make it out of here with as few casualties as possible.

Fuck that.

She took out _both_ pistols she carried with her and cocked them, ready to fire. She could see that guy who hit her dragging Mello with him and rejoining a small group of fellow gang members. Probably the ones lucky enough to escape Auguste's furry.

_He's probably too busy having his way with Rod. _

"Don't worry, I made sure she was out cold." Muttered the guy who hit her to the others.

She smirked, aimed, and fired.

"H-Hey! What the hell!" They all looked around frantically, except Mello, who simply continued walking down the hallway. They all gave him a weird look, and so did she.

He thought he was safe because they knew eachother. Yeah, no.

She made sure the next bullet took a few hairs, but never broke his skin. She never would shoot him, though sometimes she would like to.

He paused, and just kept on walking. It frustrated her to no end, but she just couldn't do it, so acted as though she didn't even see him and that last bullet was a fluke.

It was an obvious façade; she never fluked.

…,,,…

"You look beat up. Why's your face all black and blue?" A rather pleased looking Auguste looked at his young partner in crime, specifically the large bruise contaminating her usually thin face. It was swollen, big time.

"I contracted a tumor." He laughed at her excuse, taking the hint that she'd rather not say how she got it and left it at that.

"Well I most certainly hope its not cancerous." He played along, polishing his silver revolver.

"How many casualties." She demanded, holding the ice pack to her swollen face, fixing a hard gaze at the older man.

"Why, you most certainly never cared about this kind of thing before. Are you growing soft on me?" He mused, though silently counting the numbers of people shot in his head.

"The more the better." She said shortly. He was slightly taken aback by this, they had always remained mutual when it came to their little shootouts, usually trying to get as many as they needed but never really going overboard.

"Is there some kind of rivalry between the gang and yourself?" He questioned, seeming somewhat happy, which confused CL.

"Sort of." He grinned. She was taking after him perfectly.

"Ah, you're becoming more and more like me everyday." He said cheekily, giving her a pat on the head, making her feel small. She shrunk back and trudged upstairs.

She reached around in her pockets, finding a very much forgotten rosary bracelet and tossing that out the window, while picking out a folding piece of paper she was sure was not there yesterday.

She unfolded it, and read it over.

"What the hell were you doing here today. Seriously, what the hell. This was not supposed to happen. But whatever. It happened. And as most people with logic, I do not want you nor Auguste Agnes on my bad side, and as much as Rod hates to admit it neither should the gang, and that's why I'm asking you to come join us. I honestly don't give a damn about that pathetic excuse of a guild, but my reasoning goes far deeper than that. This is about the Kira case. We have now kidnapped chief Yagami's daughter of the Japanese police corp. and are now making a trade for the notebook. I'm sure Auguste has filled you in. If not, then I'll explain everything. Either way, I can pretty much predict that they'll do something to try and get it back. That's where you guys come in. This is not for the benefit of the gang, nor myself. Or you. This is for L.

-M"

Where he even got the time to write this what beyond her. But she showed it to Auguste and he begrudgingly agreed. We'd be heading over the address written on the back of the sheet of paper tomorrow to set things up. She couldn't help but smile. Things were finally getting interesting again. She missed that. Although, that wasn't the only thing she missed.

"_I had one of hell of a time sleeping, ya know." _

She couldn't help but smile, before taking the sleeping pill next to her and gulping it down with a glass of water.

..,,,..

Boring and poorly written chap, I know. But it was necessary. It'll get better, promise. You just need to wait until he blows shit up and gets all hot and scarred and stuff. Yeah.

Thanks to all who reviewed, and I apologize to those I was unable to get back to. But y'all need an account.


	4. Chapter 4: Knight in Shining Armor

"Tell me, exactly, why don't we just kill every single one of you, take the notebook for ourselves, and kill every single person thought to be Kira until we eventually get him?"

It was, in whole, just enough information to conclude to Mello that Auguste did not like him at all. It made sense, thinking about it. Mello usually put others in danger, leaving the least amount of risk for himself. Near was much worse, yes, but Mello wasn't all that innocent either. Auguste, on the other hand, was the type of person to get what he needed to get, going to straight to the frontlines if that was the fastest way. He was a man about speed, that was for sure. He wasn't stupid, either. And, with such close ties to Watari, it could also be presumed that he had in fact been a resident in Wammy's House at one point in time. He did, in fact, have a faraway look when he came to get CL and chatted with L. It was the type of look someone might give a former mentor, which made perfect sense, but also a sense of fear. As though he wasn't scared of L directly, but instead something or someone that resembled him. CL, of course, probably knew about his past than Mello ever really would, so he just kept quiet and waited for Ross to blow up in Auguste's face.

"You think this is some kind of joke! This kid here is a fucking genious! If anyone can catch Kira it's him. Are you fucking stupid? That useless whore over there isn't good for anything, we'll just put a gun up to her head and then kill the both of you if you even _try _to reach for that piece of shit of a gun you have."

_Useless whore._ It was almost funny to Mello, that someone would actually call her that after about 5 seconds. _Almost._ A small part of him was actually almost angry, maybe because that someone wasn't him. He remembered the first time they'd met. It'd been a while since they had a girl and Matt decided to go snooping. Apparently he had a brother rusty colored hair and brown eyes, always looking bored, who knew her. And apparently she wasn't that bad. So Matt took a shine to her. Mello wasn't exactly too fond of her at first, until she called him Mels. Nobody, not even Matt, would've called him that on their very first day. He made sure of that. His mouthed twitched a bit, and he stole a glance at her. The lighting of the mob was just as bad the lighting in the corridor of which they last saw each other, so she looked about the same. A small part of him wanted to see what she'd look like outside, in the sunlight, so he could see just much she'd changed. Eventually she noticed him looking at her, and raised her eyebrows. He scowled at her, and turned to Auguste, who currently "humoring" Ross. By humoring, he meant taking every single one of Ross's insults and turning it into some kind of joke, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

"Auguste. You do this for us, and anything you want it yours." At the moment, it was honestly the only thing he could come up with.

"Oh, we'll do it. On one condition." At that Auguste came up to him and leaned down so no other mob members could hear.

"When you blow the place up, both CL and myself must be out of the building. If you blow it up regardless, at least one of us is bound to escape, and we won't hesitate to kill you." Despite planting bombs across the entire hideout, he hadn't actually planned on setting them off. It was only a last ditch effort.

"If it comes to that, then yes."

If Mello killed CL, Matt would probably kill him before Auguste could get a chance to.

…

_This wasn't supposed to happen… there's no way he could know his name. Was it Near? No, it couldn't be. Near was simply unbearable, but he wouldn't tell anyone the name of a Wammy's resident. Besides, it was pretty much impossible for him to know his name in the first place. No, it had to be something with the notebook. His eyes. The way he looked at him. Or at least, slightly above him. It had to be something with the eyes. Damn._

"You don't have to die like this Mello. Just hand over the notebook."

He knew he shouldn't do it. He never would do it. Besides, he had Plan B. _Is it worth it though?_ He glanced over at the crony feigning death in a corner. Just waiting for something to use as a signal. These mobsters may be idiots, but at least they were loyal.

"You know how this works. I write your name down, and you die. Let go of that trigger and put your hands in the air."

"Yagami-"

"Don't move! I've written your first name, and it'll only take me a second to write your surname!"

"I'm truly sorry. For what it's worth, I give you my word that I never wanted to kill you… but tell me Yagami… you've never killed someone before, have you?"

That was all they needed for a signal. Soon, a borage of bullets fired at Yagami's back, and the elder man gave a disgruntled yelp before clutching the notebook in his hands and falling backwards.

"Jose! The notebook!" Mello shouted before running for the gas mask laying on the floor.

"This guy! Ugh! He won't let go of the thing! Son of a..!" He yelled before briefly kicking Yagami's body. The sound of stomping boots echoed through the hall and as soon as he got the gas mask secured around his head the reinforcements were already at the door.

It took but one shot to send Jose falling backwards, killed instantly.

"It's all over Mello! Put your hands up and surrender." Said the new leader of the group, guns pointed at him from all directions.

_It's all or nothing. Forgive me._

Gasps erupted from the entire group, before all were suddenly engaged in an onslaught of explosions.

Mello braised himself, but the blast came harder than expected, and he could feel a sharp pain on his whole left side. He had no idea how much damage it had done, for the feeling quickly dulled and he bolted for the nearest exit.

After running for what seemed like hours he found himself in front of a large steel door, what he recognized as the exit at the back of the building. A blast erupted behind him and sent him flying forwards, and he quickly put both arms up in front of is head barely managing to save himself from a heads on collision with the heavy door. He staggered out and leaned over, placing his hands on his knees while catching his breath, the steel door closing behind him.

He was, however, not alone. Auguste was there also, with a stern, sharp look on his face. His left hand held a shining, silver pistol which miraculously seemed completely void of any harm done. He didn't pay too much attention to his left, but instead directed at what held in his right. His right arm was looped around a dark, lithe figure, blood dripping precariously from several sources. CL, no doubt about it. He noticed that he, too, was bleeding quite heavily and had a very likely chance of passing out from ammonia any time soon.

He glanced all around, looking for something that could reassure him the two of them would not be dying tonight. He looked to Auguste, who did nothing to help her, just glare and Mello with a look he had never seen from the usually stoic man.

_Why isn't he doing anything to help her? Unless… no, that couldn't be. There's no way she could be a lost cause. But maybe… maybe she's… already dead._

He swallowed at the thought, at the thought that she could very well be dead, and dead by his hands. And just when he thought an edge of guilt had come on, she flinched, and put a semi bloodied hand at Auguste, almost like pushing him away. He unwrapped her from his arm and she sat on the ground, still a bloodied mess, but still alive, and gazed up at him through now crooked, messy, dulled blonde hair.

"You got a little something on your face." She drawled out, looking at the man who sat several yards away from her. Whatever shock that had dulled the pain was quickly fading, for his hand was now clenching the left side of his face with an almost gentle death grip.

"You don't look so great either." Much sharper than he intended, due from the pain and anger built up from the mutilating injury.

"If you don't shut up you're going to die. I guess in that case you should keep on talking." She muttered, quite matter-of-factly. He resisted his urge to snarl at her, but he didn't say much else.

The squeaking sound of car wheels broke through the silence, stopping directly in between the two of them. A charismatic young man stepped out and glanced at the two bleeding figures with skepticism. Red hair and orange goggles gave it away the second he stepped out.

It was so nice to see Matt again, she thought. He walked over to her, leaned down and gave her his hand.

"My lady," he smirked.

..,,..

WHY YES, I AM ALIVE. Sorry for late update, I'll try to get the next one in a bit earlier, but then again, I've said that for all chapters I've done in this story. My baaaad!


	5. Chapter 5: Innuendos

Matt helped the both of them into the car, careful to avoid their wounds, and later into the hotel room he and Mello were currently staying at. He watched them stagger around a while before finally finding places to sit. Mello's wounds were mostly burn wounds, 3rd degree most likely, across more than just his face. He wasn't sure of the extent of the damage, but he was certainly a bloodied mess. CL's wounds, on the other hand, were mostly cuts from broken glass and the like. Her hand was currently gripped on her stomach, the source of the majority of blood. He cringed just looking at the two.

"_As soon as we make it to the hotel I want you to leave. You know what you have to do. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."_

"_But what if she's just as bad as you are?"_

"_Shut up. No matter what happens, I want you to leave as soon as we make it into the hotel." _

That was what he was told the night before. Mello managed to get a grip of the situation and threw Matt a sharp glare, demanding him to go. He supposed he had no other choice.

"Okay guys, don't hate me, but I have a really really really important date to attend to. You know where the medical supplies is." He went out the door after that, unable to look at the two any longer. A pang of guilt followed him through the rest of the night, but it was something that had to be done.

..,,..

Mello was glad Matt had succumbed to his demands. Now he had something much more important to attend to. He took a glance at CL's direction. The medical supplies were just above her head, on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

"Se…" he cringed at the immense pain that came with talking. CL didn't even react, and the pit in his stomach worsened when he found some of the blood was actually leaking from her ear. She must have been too close to the blast, the boom busted her hearing.

_She relies so much on her hearing. _

Unable to communicate proper he crawled himself over to her direction, where he and Matt had prepared everything they would need seconds before leaving the hotel room earlier that day.

Eventually he ended up virtually on top of her, clambering for something that he could use. His hand had found a damp rag, which had previously been soaked. He took it in a shaky grip, before timidly pressing against his left side of his face. Seconds afterwards he dropped the rag, the stinging sensation a bit too harsh for him to take in. His hand, by instinct, went up to grab his face, which caused even more pain, and a deep snarl escaped his mouth. He had forgotten the rag had also been dipped in a small amount of rubbing alcohol to help prevent infection.

CL seemed to understand. He watched her pick up the rag with her right hand that he had whipped on the floor, and take the other side of his face with her left. Her grip was strong, stronger than he remembered. He pulled his face closer to hers, and preceded to tap the stinging burn wounds with the rag. Several seemingly inhuman sounds had escaped his lips when she did so, and his arms went up to grab hers in a tight grip that could very well eventually cut off blood circulation.

"Shhh…" She muttered, not as something meant to be comforting, but more like she was trying to say 'shut up' and then suddenly became lazy. Regardless, the noises subsided and he resulted at staring at her eyes again. He figured it wouldn't hurt to play a game he had invented and had been playing ever since she had come to Wammy's.

It was a simple enough game, though one he could never finish.

'_Come Up With The Perfect Shade For CL's Eyes'_

It was a game he missed. Though he could never play it for very long before she noticed him staring and he had to quickly look away. Though now he could stare for almost as long as he wanted. Her eyes hadn't changed much, though the poor almost yellowish lighting in the room was dulling just about everything in its reach. Still, it managed to somewhat distract him from the throbbing pain.

_Violet, orchid, lavender, plum, amethyst, mauve, azure, cornflower, prussian…_

The list went on and on.

"There-" She muttered, throwing the now bloodied rag on the floor beside her.

"Indigo!" he exclaimed as loudly as he possibly could without causing unbearable pain, which was still rather quiet.

"…What?" His eyes were staring intently at hers, as though he had just had an incredible revelation.

"…Nothing." He finally said after a few moments.

It didn't take him long to remember the gaping wound on her stomach, which she was currently clutching once more, a pained look on her usually calm features.

He was still on top of her, a small gap in between them in their sitting positions. He supposed it was his turn to help her now.

Mello leaned forward so that his head was resting against the bottom of the bed before taking his right hand to find the zipper of her jacket, pulling it down slowly. She seemed to catch on to his good intentions and allowed him to do so, removing her hand from her stomach.

His head rolled back to how it was when she was cleaning his face and shoulder.

Both of his hands came to her neck and slowly slipped underneath her tight jacket, peeling it off and flinging it across the room. Unable to help himself his eyes trailed away from her face down to the gash, trying unsuccessfully to ignore her bra, though he couldn't help a small smirk when seeing it was one of his favorite colors, red.

Finally he reached up to the medical supplies, taking note of their semi bare chests brushing up against each other with a wave of heat.

Ignoring it to the best of his ability, he reached around for the second rag they had left, which was just as damp as the first, only this one had a bit more rubbing alcohol since Matt couldn't listen to directions.

He supposed he had no choice and figured it would be best to just get it over with.

With one swift movement the rag went down to her gaping wound, with probably more force than he originally intended.

She yelped, arching her back and panting heavily. He held it there, pushing it against her stomach as best he could.

Surprisingly, instead of recoiling, she gripped the back of his shoulders with her nails and pulled him closer to him.

"Hm." He muttered with a smirk, wrapping his left arm around her back, another warm heat running through him at their close proximity.

"Mello."

"Hm?" he asked, looking down at her face, no longer contorted with pain.

"Sleep with me." She muttered, leaning back away from him, looking up at him through disheveled blonde hair. He chuckled at the innuendo, and couldn't help but think it was intentional.

"Yeah." It would be nice. Oh so very nice, to finally have a good night's sleep again.

..,,..

Hey guys. Sorry for being an ass and not updating frequently. Don't hate me.


	6. Chapter 6: 'Cute'

Matt hadn't shown up the next morning, which was what they had planned. He had gone straight back to the other apartment to continue spying on Misa Amane, much to his protest. He probably never would've gone had she'd been any less cute.

Mello has been in the same position on the floor for approximately two hours. He could, in all honesty, stay there for another three or four. Or five, or six, or seven. He wished he could. But reality gripped him with it's cold hands and pried him from the glorious bliss that came with being entangled with a certain blonde. Wait, what? No, he got no pleasure from this. None at all.

_He needed to stop with this ridiculousness. _

Yes, that was what he needed to do… but for the time being, waking her up to help didn't seem like such a bad idea. He poked her face a couple times, and her eyes clenched and slowly fluttered open at the rude awakening.

"Hm?" She grunted, slowly pulling herself into a sitting position. He watched her for a while and soon realized he didn't really have a reason for waking her, but it was time to start working on the Kira case again. He was irritated by this, as doing anything really seemed to bring back the burning sensation on his whole left side, making him cringe from just doing normal day-to-day activities.

"What d'ya mean 'hm'? Wake up already." He snarled, standing up and walking over her to the bed where his laptop currently resided. She gripped his ankle as he hovered over her, only adding to his annoyance.

"Where does Matt keep his shirts." She demanded, and his already crappy mood had taken a turn for the worse.

"Why the hell do you need to know where he keeps his fucking shirts." He snarled, eyes narrowing at the unfazed blonde before him.

"So I can wear one." She replied, eyes locking on with his.

He was still ridiculously angry. It did make sense now, though, seeing as how she was still in her bra from yesterday.

"Oh…" He still didn't want her wearing one of Matt's shirts, though, so instead took his own off and threw it at her, catching her by surprise. He had put it on last night after he had been bandaged, so there shouldn't have been any blood on it. Although now, as he moved around some more, the tight gauze was starting to bleed through.

The pain was still there too, and, as mentioned before, he didn't feel like doing much of anything. He sighed and went to sit on the bed, praying the fire still crawling on top of him would finally extinguish.

God obviously wasn't on his side today. The pain not only decided to stay a little longer, but to also invite a friend. Now the burning sensation was accompanied by a very unpleasant itchiness, most likely caused by the gauze carrying all the dried blood from the night before. He hissed, and started to hunch his back to ease the irritation as much as possible.

"Does it hurt?" CL asked from where she still sat on the floor, only now with his shirt hung over her lithe body. Part of it was bunched up and tied back with a ponytail, exposing the ugly gash on her stomach. Her hair was tied back even more messily, her fringe having more hair than he remembered. He wondered if some of her hair had been eaten in that cursed fire. If so, he had to be thankful, he liked her looking like this more than before. Probably because of how close she resembled him, especially wearing his own shirt. For a split second, he allowed his brain to identify her as 'cute'.

"…No." That was very obviously a lie. You could tell by how when he said it, that damned itchiness jerked into his shoulder, making him twitch.

"Are the bandages bothering you? … We should probably clean them." By 'we' she meant 'I' as in herself. Mello was the type of man who hated owing debts to people because he'd strive to get them repaid as soon as possible, often times interfering with his work.

But, with how he felt right now, it was one debt he had to endow upon himself.

"…Yeah. I… I can't… I mean, I need…" The words stumbled out of his mouth beyond his control. It seemed as though his pride refused to let him admit to her he couldn't do it by himself. In fact, he couldn't do anything by himself. At least not in his current condition.

"I know, I'll do it." He cringed at how tired she sounded, as though she shouldn't have to do anything for him. Like she should just leave and find Auguste. The only reason she was even still here was most likely for _Matt's_ sake.

His thoughts evaporated when he heard the sound of the shower go off. _No. No, no, no, no, no. _

"There is no way you're getting me into that shower." He told her, sitting and backed away from the bed, away from her. The itchiness cut into his shoulder again and he felt light headed from standing up too quickly. _This is pathetic._

"Come on. I can always douse you in rubbing alcohol, if you want that instead." She said, coming around the bed and gently grabbing hold of his right arm. She backed up to where their arms were outstretched, but didn't pull him along.

"You'll appreciate it in the morning." He still refused to budge.

"It's the least you can do." She said, this time more stern. He thought about that. The longer he took to heal, the longer this whole thing would be put on hold.

Begrudgingly, he let her guide him into the bathroom, the closer they got, the tighter his grip on her fingers.

She opened the shower door, and tilted the dial towards her, making the water more cool.

Instead of entering the shower fully, he'd laid down on the floor, and allowed her to slowly unwrap him of his bandages. In some places the itchiness had died down, a cool relief washed over him. In other places though, they came back with a vengeance.

When he was fully unwrapped she helped him lay on his back and slowly inch into the shower in a sort of army crawl motion.

He huffed a sigh when the cool water reached his wounds. It stung, even more so then it had when he first woke up. The itchiness virtually disappeared, though, much to his relief.

But god, it stung. CL seemed to get the picture and slowly started to rub his back, careful to avoid his burns.

"Are they clean yet?" he growled out through clenched teeth.

"Hn, I guess." He supposed she was sympathizing with him, which would have deeply annoyed him had this been any other situation. He was thankful when the cold water finally seized, though, regardless of the current situation.

CL helped him stand up and sit him on the bed, before sitting on his lap keeping him down. Needless to say, that surprised him. Pleasantly. But that also made him incredibly suspicious.

"What are you doing?" He snarled, hands moving to her hips regardless.

"I found this in Matt's drawer, were you trying to hide it?" With that she pulled out a small jar. He instantly froze at her words. He didn't care that it would be in his best interest, that it would save him a lot of pain sooner more than later. He was a man who lived in the present, and during this present moment, he wanted nothing to do with what Matt had insisted on him using.

"Not. Yet." He said in the sternest voice he could manage at the moment.

"If you're going to keep complaining and waking me up then it won't be your choice." She told him, unscrewing the cap of the powerful burn cream.

"I've used that before. I don't really want to use that again." He told her, looking her dead in the eyes and tightening his grip on her hips.

"You'll thank me for it later." And with that, she scooped out a large glob of taupe cream and smeared it on his shoulder, while squirmed and wrinkled his nose in pain and disgust.

"Don't be such a baby." She teased, moving more of it towards his neck, making him grimace.

"Don't you dare get any of that shit near my eyes." He leaned backwards, away from her touch, despite knowing that all his efforts would be futile. Especially not with her on his lap.

…,,,…

After around 20 minutes they were back in their original position. His hands were now gripping her shoulders as he focused on nothing in particular. It was numbing, and he felt better than he had since… well, since before the accident. He felt bad it an accident, as though he was forcing the blame upon some natural force that would have happened regardless. That obviously wasn't the case, but he was still too selfish to call it anything different. What was he supposed to call it, 'Mello's giant screw-up'? No. He'd keep calling it an accident, and maybe, eventually, he just might be able to convince himself it really, truly was an accident.

Five days passed and it didn't take him long to realize there would be no forgetting, there would be no convincing himself that it was all in the past, that he just happened to be apart of a horrible accident. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but every time he looked in a mirror he'd know the truth.

But this was not the time for wallowing in the unfortunate events of the past. As he mentioned earlier, he was the type of man who lived in the present. And the fate of the world did not rest on pretty eyes and perfect skin. Or, well, not his skin, anyway.

…,,,…

Reviews are much appreciated, as always.

I love you all, as always.

I'll try to get these chapters up quicker, as always.


	7. Chapter 7: Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

After a while both Mello and CL had completely healed from the terrible events that led to a rift between all three of them, and it was critical for the plan that they have no doubt about trusting the others. Luckily they all had a solid, common ground with what they needed to accomplish this night; to avenge L.

Unlike Mello, however, CL had some other things she needed to take care of that didn't involve Kira. Ever since stumbling into Mello that night at the office she had virtually forgotten about it, but looking at it now made her angrier than ever before. Her thin fingers slid over the scarred flesh of her thigh, the thin line that has been haunting her for nearly five to six years now. The exact date had escaped her brain a while ago, though she still remembered the event like it had happened the same day as the explosion of the hideout, earning her a third scar across her stomach (the third one being a small one around the back of her ear, accumulated from an early knife fight around two or three years ago).

Ah yes, her first experience taking a bullet, and afterwards, made absolutely sure that it would be her last. And it was, for now, since you never knew how far Kira would really go to keep his or her identity hidden.

She still remembered her name. Skyla. Her nails began to slightly dig into the scar on her left thigh, glaring at it as though she could scare it into jumping off of her leg never to return.

Of course, she made sure to keep tabs on Skyla, and doing so was much easier with Auguste around. He kept tabs on several people, though never contacted them, and had them blacklisted so nobody could contact them using anything that he owned. CL figured they were just old colleagues of his, though one odd thing she noticed was that all of their names were rather peculiar and all started with a different letter of the alphabet. He had all except B, in fact. She though that maybe it had something to do with his unusually strong connections with Wammy's house, and that was how the naming system usually worked within the orphanage. She made sure not to dwell on this subject, since whenever she mentioned it he grew tense and stiff and tried to avoid the topic of conversation. She recalled the night she first brought it up she heard him firing away at the target field into all the long hours of the night and even into early morning. Since she hadn't seen him this shaken since L's actual death she vowed to never bring it up again. Which she didn't, and eventually forgot about it. But not Skyla. She could never truly forget about Skyla and the scar she brought upon her all those years back. Evidence, however, proved that it hadn't actually been her who had shot at her, since at the time Skyla held a pistol and the bullet that nicked her had been that of a revolver. Still, it didn't mean that she wasn't involved. Because CL knew that she had to have been in some other large way involved. She managed to get to Wammy's, so it wouldn't necessarily be a long shot to assume that she was the mastermind behind the incident.

Skyla had scarred her forever, and for that she would pay. It was decided. And with that decision, CL picked up her cell phone, pressed a button, and put it up to her ears. It rang only once, and the suave voice of a man in his late twenties picked up.

"Are you alright?" he said immediately, though his voice held no urgency.

"I'm fine. But before we go through with this there's something I need to do." She spoke, keeping her voice low, knowing Mello was in the room next door and he would not approve of what she was about to do at all.

"Yes, my dear?" He asked, and she could hear the familiar beep of his laptop.

"I want to know where I could find a woman named Skyla. I had you keep tabs on her a few years back." She told him, lowering her voice further with the detested name, knowing she was not the only one who hated it.

"Hmmm… S for Skyla… let's see… ah, here it is. Wow, lucky you! She's actually really nearby. She's waaay downtown, and she's got quite the nightlife. Partying and clubbing almost every night of the week… well there's a club real close to where she's staying tonight, called Sugarcube. Haha, how cute." He said, amusement clearly in his voice.

"Okay. Thanks, Auguste." She said, no longer lowering her voice.

"Nooo problem~!" He said, and she hung up. _Sugarcube._ Sounded like the type of club where any ID was welcomed, _especially_ the fake ones. Perfect, since she had quite a few of those.

Since all she had were the sweatpants Matt gave her and Mello's oversized shirt she probably wouldn't even be able to get in. Looks like a day for shopping. Yay.

"Where are you going?" Mello asked, sounding somewhat on edge. He probably overheard her thanking Auguste, and for whatever reason he did not seem to like him much.

"Out." She replied.

"That's a bit vague. Mind elaborating?" he said with clear sarcasm.

"I'm going… shopping." And without waiting to hear his reply she left, feeling that was satisfying enough.

..,,,..

It was now about midnight now, and the nightlife was just beginning in Los Angeles. She was currently sitting down at a table at Sugarcube, and sure enough, a fake ID was all it took. She was true to her word and had gone shopping, grabbing something somewhat slutty without making her look like a prostitute. Tight black jeans with a studded belt, a tight white graphic tank top and a somewhat tight, very cropped black jacket, and a pair of thick black sunglasses, for identity reasons. She fit right in with all the other young nightlife, minus her shoes, which were rather flat to enable her to run much better than in nine-inch heels. Her choppy, layered hair was down, her bangs almost going across her forehead but coming to a crook on the right.

So far, Skyla and her posse of friends were nowhere to be found, though they were probably looking to be fashionably late. Douchebags.

The club wasn't as pink on the inside as it was on the outside, having a futuresque feel to it with bright, epileptic blue-ish green lights and blaring thecho music. Girls were bouncing all around wearing more jewelry than actual clothing, and guys grabbing the waists of any young dame they felt like swaying around and buying drinks for their favorites. People were making out and smoking on couches, hooking up and writing phone numbers, clambering around and running to the bathroom, having one drink too many. She remained solitary, sitting by herself at one of the small tables, keeping her gaze at the entrance of the club, keeping her eye out for her soon to be prey.

Finally, she and her pack arrived. The doors opened, and low and behold, the queen of bitches herself stepped onto the scene. It was as though her and her group were walking in slow motion. She was wearing a red strapless minidress with black lace on top and around seven inch heels. Her dark hair, darker than she remembered it, was about shoulder length and curled. Layers of necklaces and bracelets adorned her wrists and neck and eyeliner and mascara was evident even in this horrible lighting. As opposed to her naïve, cutesy look in Wammy's, she looked more like the modern femme fatale. Her vibrant green eyes, along with their smokey look, took in and devoured one of the men near the middle of the club and she wasted no time with locking her arms around his neck and swaying her hips. The rest of her posse broke up to go stalk to their own individual prey. She waited for about an hour or so, until all but one of the guys had a 'partner', and seemed ready to leave. It was with this that she stood up, took the risk, and put her sunglasses on top of her head. She put on her best 'wanting' face and approached one of the guys of her group. He had dirty blonde hair, spiked, and a plaid shirt with jeans. Out of all of them he seemed the most humble, though still a bit douchey. His eyes met hers and a small smirk graced his lips as he headed straight for her. She made sure to keep her eyes locked, pulling her lips into a small smile. He finally reached her and without saying anything wrapped one of his hands around her waist just as she placed one of her hands on his chest.

Normally, she hated having to rely on her looks to get to who she needed to get to, but with Skyla being a pest and moving around so frequently this was probably her best option for the time.

She shifted a bit, making sure the one with his arm draped around her couldn't feel the dual pistols she kept at the waist of her jeans. It was a miracle they didn't obscure her figure too much.

..,,..

They finally stopped at a large, hotel like building. She followed the rest of the group up the elevator, putting her sunglasses back on to make sure there was no way Skyla would recognize her and following them up into an elevator. Soon they came to a lounge like room with couches and music and wine. Lots of wine. She took her place next to the guy who led her out of the club and waiting for her chance. As soon as she got comfortable, she would strike. She watched as she sat down on one of the couches and crossed her legs across the lap of her prey. She laughed a little too loud at one of his jokes and peered over at everyone else, her eye catching CL and her smiling face soon contorted to that of confusion. _As though she recognizes me, but doesn't know from where. _

Deciding to have a little fun now, and that Skyla was comfortable enough, she placed her sunglasses on top of her head, and opened her indigo like eyes. She through Skyla a typical predator to prey look and reached for her gun. It all happened in slow motion, Skyla's face going from confusion to confusion/horror just as CL whipped out her dual pistols and took aim.

_BANG!_

Everyone ran, most of them forgetting completely about their dates. The women all screamed and trampled out of the room, the men cursing and stumbling out behind them. Skyla must've seen it coming and her instincts told her to duck or something, since all CL managed to do was nick her arm. But it was one hell of a nick. Skyla made a dash behind the chair before popping out from the side with her own gun, once again with a dreaded revolver. She took aim and shot, but CL was quicker and made haste behind one of the couches. Skyla, now in a frenzied rage, ran after her, and lunged behind the couch, taking CL by utter surprise. Skyla scrambled around on the floor after CL dodged, and reached into her bra, retracting a knife. _The hell._. She lunged after CL again and tried to shove it into her stomach, but CL quickly brought her knee up and blocked her hands from reaching their destination. Skyla dropped the knife and went after her revolver, which now lay on the floor. CL caught the knife's handle with no problems and turned swiftly on her stomach, extended her arm and with a quick flick of her wrist the knife slashed the back of Skyla's ankle. She bellowed out a scream and slid down on her knees. CL stood, walked to Skyla's revolver, with had her name engraved across the barrel of the gun in the same green as her eyes. Skyla looked into CL's eyes, giving her a pleading look. It vaguely reminded her of her sister's look when the man at the restaurant asked if her stepfather was truly her father.

Her answer, of course, was no.

_Bang. _

…_,,,…_

Okay so sorry for the late chapter. Also, does anybody still read this story? If so please review, it would mean the world to me, and I'll probably make more of an effort to update quicker. Regardless, I love you all, as always.


	8. Chapter 8: How Was the Wine?

He was _beyond_ pissed off. He had passed that point the second she had hung up her cell phone. _Shopping._ Did she think he was stupid? He seemed to have frown lines permanently tattooed to his face, by now. His car drove up to the pink, kinky looking night club "Sugarcube" with the speed as though he was driving in a busy highway in Miami. He got a few unpleasant fingers on his way, of course. That's how he knew he was going fast enough. He parked, and sat glaring at the windows as though to melt them. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he inhaled sharply, before letting his hands fall and exhaling. Against all false hope, this did not help in the least.

Finally, though, after a few minutes, a large group of people flanked by a young woman in a tight red mini-dress, he saw her. He had to take a few double takes, not only because of her pretty outfit or how her hair was down, though both were rather surprising, but instead of how a young man with spiky, dirty blonde hair had his arm around her, and she had his hand on his chest, leaning into him like a _lover._

God, he wanted to puke. He wanted to throw up, take his car, run the entire group over, and pull her into the nearest alley. _God, he was pissed. _

"Fuck." He said, staring up at the ceiling before starting the car and following the group of utter _douchebags._

He had to think rationally. CL was smart, smart enough to know this was not the time to have a boyfriend, especially not such an average boyfriend, who did everything everybody else his age did, when she, quite obviously, did not. Surely, he would realize that, he had to. All he had to do was lift up her shirt a little and feel the scar, right? Or maybe move a hand up her thigh a little and…

"Fuck." he repeated, this time a little louder than the last. Please, have a good reason for doing something like _this._

Eventually they made it to a hotel and to his horror went inside. What was she thinking, sacrificing her identity like that? Idiot. Such an idiot.

So they're going to go up into their own comfy hotel room, with iced wine, a fluffy mattress with rose petals, lingerie…

His hand reached for the door handle, but he paused. There _had_ to be a good reason for why the hell she was doing this. He could trust her, couldn't he? Of course, she probably thought she could trust him in the hideout when he made it blow up. With everybody in it. And leave her bleeding and miserable and even had her take care of him, the one who had caused all her troubles anyway.

Hell, trusting her was the _least_ he could do after all that.

He groaned, and apparently, took a nap.

…,,,…

Skyla shrieked at the sound of a bullet, but was pleasantly surprised to see one of the bulked up body guards hired to protect the lounge had CL's arms locked behind her, a gun in his hand and ready to shoot. CL thrust her head back, catching him by surprised before taking the barrel of her gun and shoving it behind her, getting him square in the eyes. He yelled, and swung his gun around, shooting and waving it all over the place.

By the time he had run out of the building enough his vision was clear enough to see the bloody mess of that young lady, who had been been shot in the neck, during his blind tantrum.

…,,,…

CL burst through the door of the hotel building, and ran. She looked across the sidewalk, searching for the nearest dark alley to run and hide into. Then she felt a very strong, very familiar grip on her wrist and she was thrust to the side and shoved into a car. Mello slid into the driver's seat and seat and they sped off to his and Matt's apartment. She bolted out of the car door and ran to the room before he could catch up with him, wanting to deal with anything but him at the time.

Why was he even there, anyway. How did he even know where she was? He couldn't have been eavesdropping on her phone call, having been sitting on the couch eating a chocolate bar and watching TV by the time she left her room.

Unfortunately, by the time she made it through the door, he was right behind her, and then the screaming and the cursing began. Or at least, it should have.

"So was it nice?" he snarled, with very obvious fake interest.

"Mello-" she started, but he cut her off, yanking her wrist again and putting her up against a wall, keeping his hands on her waist to prevent her from leaving.

"Was it just so romantic, with those fluffy little sheets and those beautiful little rose petals?" he started again, his eyes narrowed with a sickly smug look on his usually stern face.

"How was the wine?" he asked again, and pushing her back when she tried to sneak away from his grip.

"Was it refreshing? Was he just so dashing in his fucking sunglasses, and his fucking hair gel." His voice getting more harsh as he went on.

"What are you talking about? What the hell do you think I did? You think I went out to a club like _Sugarcube_ to go find a guy to fuck?" He looked at her hard, his jaw tense and his gaze patronizing.

"You have yet to give me a reason to think otherwise." He replied, his voice now sober of the drunken rage.

"Is this about Wammys…" she whispered, looking down.

"You didn't even say goodbye- you didn't even _care._" He muttered, grabbing ahold of her chin and bringing it up to look at him.

"I- I- I was… I was-… I was-" He moved away and looked down on her, as though disappointed.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. She whispered over and over, not moving from her current spot.

"I know. But you didn't-"

"No. No I didn't." she said, and walked back to her room.

Of course, she had completely forgotten that it wasn't actually her room and that is was in fact, his room. But she remembered when he walked in and she was in the middle of taking her shirt off.

…,,,…

Okay so I know this chapters a little shorter but I just wanted to kinda get this part out before I forgot parts about it.


	9. Chapter 9: Cody's Hobby

With CL gone, Auguste couldn't help but feel a little… lonely. He hadn't realized he was _used_ to having her around. He was too selfish to devote his entire life to her, but it was still somewhat reassuring to have her always shining in the backdrop. But she had to do this. For herself, of course. Not for anybody else, just herself. So he was left all alone while she ran off with Goldilocks and Red Riding Hood. Oh, he was just fine with Matt. Actually, he quite liked Matt. He had a bit of a weakness for cute girls, as anybody could notice, but he was still a pretty good guy. It was Mello he disliked. Selfish and a drive to become what he just couldn't accept he never could. He's heard of people hating others almost as an instinct for representing what they secretly saw as themselves. That's what CL probably thinks… He had, after all, forgotten to mention on little detail of his life that, well, wasn't so little.

He knew why he hated Mello so much, and that was because he was jealous. Auguste had flaked. He had given up. He couldn't take it, couldn't handle it… and Mello… he yearned for it. He wanted it so much more than anyone else. He would fight for it, even with the knowledge that it was impossible to win. Mello wanted so badly what Auguste despised, because he could never have achieved it. He was the first, and they pitied him. So they let him give in to his selfishness. They even gave him an alibi, so he'd never have to be bothered by it again.

That was what Auguste told himself, at least. That was his reasoning for hating Mello. But deep, deep down in his subconscious, he knew that he actually, really did hate Mello because he really was like Auguste. He was like a mix. A mix of Auguste and the person that drove Auguste to do what he did so many years back. Auguste really did want it in the beginning. He wanted to be the next L. He was excited, even. Then that person had to come along and drive him to, at one point, acute insanity. Mello shared that manipulative quality. He shared that unreasonable drive to become number one. Mello was a mix. A mix between Auguste Benjamin Agnes and the notorious Beyond Birthday. But Auguste kept that locked far away, too far for his sanity to notice.

Feeling nostalgic, Auguste went up to CL's old room. She hardly spent any time there whatsoever, so it hadn't changed much throughout the years. The walls remained white, with basic furniture and a queen sized bed. He rummaged around for the pistol he had given her so long ago, and as though it was some ancient artifact, she's never used it. Maybe she lost it. He looked around a bit just in case. Eventually he got to her nightstand, where he found a familiar looking journal.

_My journal? _How amusing. It was, indeed, his journal. He even remembered writing a secret code in the back for fun. It was almost an anomaly that CL had found it. He turned it around and opened the back, where the coded message was written. As he suspected it was finished, and by the looks of the faded pencil lead, it had been finished some time ago. What was odd, though, was that although almost half of it was written in CL's all caps handwriting, the rest was in a neat cursive. He never remembered CL ever writing in cursive aside from signatures. Maybe someone had gotten a hold of it before her and didn't finish. He chuckled at the message, which read;

"_The pen may be mightier than the sword, but so is a handgun._

_A good bullet will pass through anybody's skull, no matter how thick. Think about that if you ever get annoyed at gun practice._

_What if the true future generation L actually has parents?"_

He chuckled again, and put the book down, not bothering to look at any of the previous passages. He knew what they were composed of, and looking through them again would probably just make him even more paranoid than he already was.

…,,,…

"Okay, let's go." Said Mello, leading CL to the car parked outside of the apartment. Matt still had to keep an eye on Misa, so he couldn't join.

"Where exactly are we going, you haven't told me yet." CL asked, sliding into the passenger's seat of the car.

"Visiting someone. Is that a problem?" As usual, he was being ridiculously difficult and easily annoyed.

"I was asking." She said quietly, trying to avoid his temper as much as possible. He glanced at her a second before taking a deep breath and elaborating.

"Her name's Halle. She works with SPK now but she used to work for the CIA. She leaks me info from time to time."

"Huh. Never thought I'd see you working so covertly to get information from _Near_ of all people." She teased. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he was smiling, nonetheless.

"You're just asking me to kick you out the window."

"That'd be like kicking out your bodyguard." She said, shaking her pistol at him.

"If I wanted a bodyguard with a weakness for the opposite sex I'd hire Matt." He replied, smug.

"You really can't let go of that, can you?" She said, putting her pistol away in one of the inside pockets of a new black leather trench coat, which Auguste had gotten her a day or two after breaking into a CIA headquarters building. That made things a bit ironic, in their current situation.

"Oh relaaaax," he said, finally sparing her a glance.

"I know you're not stupid enough to go around fucking some loser douchebag tool without a first date. I just like putting it against you."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of 'high class' prostitute." She muttered. He gave her a suspicious look.

"Mello!" She exclaimed, and he laughed. She hadn't heard him laugh in so long. She smiled beside herself.

"I'm as much of a prostitute as you are a pyromaniac." She said.

"Oh, but you see, I am a pyromaniac."

"I guess that puts me in a pretty awkward situation, then." She replied, and he grinned.

…,,,…

Auguste, as CL's caretaker, obviously took great consideration into her wellbeing. That's why he set up a wonderfully timed appointment, after checking up on some SPK files, which L had made sure he would always have access to. L really did like him. Still, this situation was almost as funny as it was ironic.

…,,,…

Mello had stopped the car around a block behind Halle's apartment, for precautionary reasons. He leaned his head back and looked at CL as she opened the door and stood up. Damn, she looked good in leather.

"Are you coming?" she asked, popping her head back in. Her hair was back as always, but she still had the leftover fringe and bangs, like she did the day after the accident. Thinking about it made his scar start to itch and he was jarred out of his reverie.

"Whatever." He said, and got out.

When they reached the door to Halle's apartment he picked the lock while CL stood watch and entered the large space. Definitely nicer than Mello's and Matt's. Mello looked around and took out a handgun of his own while CL kept her hands in her pockets and looked around the space. Something felt off. Maybe she was getting rusty, but she just couldn't put a finger on what it was. With her guard up she jumped when she heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen space, where Mello was.

"I knew I felt everything suddenly become tense. Always a pleasure to see you, Goldilocks." _Auguste?_

Maybe it was because whenever Auguste was around she always felt relatively safe, or maybe it was because she was just getting rusty, but by the time she felt something sneak up on her it was too late.

"I see you finally managed to afford a new coat, you bitch." She flipped around, and felt something cold and hard come into contact with the same part of her jaw where she was pistol whipped around a month or two earlier. Immediately her head flew back, and she stood motionless like that for about three, seconds, though to her it seemed like a couple minutes at least, before stumbling back into someone and having an arm wrap around her stomach, preventing her from falling over.

"**Hey.** I told you not to do that," Auguste said sternly at Halle, who still had her foot up in the way when she kicked CL, though the person holding her wasn't him.

"You could end up re-opening the wound and she'd be in a bit of trouble." He explained, back in his normal tone.

"She still deserved it, after what she did to my hand." Halle muttered, putting her foot down and fixing her shirt. CL regained her balance and gently pushed Mello away, before popping her jaw back in place.

"When did you get your cast off, I'll use that to grade my marksmanship." She asked impassively, irritated at such a rude introduction. This was not the right thing to say, because Halle hurried up to her and grabbed her by her collar, grinding her teeth.

"Two days ago. I'd like to see you try to break into that building now, the guards sure ain't fucking around any more." Halle said, before regaining her posture and sitting down, crossing her legs.

"They can walk?" CL replied, standing next to Mello. Halle looked irritated at the comment, but ignored it.

"I apologize, Mr. Agnes, I lost my temper. She and some other dumbass broke into the facility I previously worked at and stole a piece of valuable data." She explained, ignoring the two blondes who took a seat on the couch.

"Oh, don't apologize. After all, I'm said dumbass." He said cheerfully, smiling at the woman who now had a very shocked look on her face.

"But why would you go through all that trouble for data already accessible to you through the SPK?" she asked, appalled.

"I thought it would make for good practice. I take full credit for the incident involving your hand. I apologize." He said, bowing. CL felt Mello become tense next to her.

"That's a bit of a stretch just for target practice." Mello spoke up, narrowing his icy stare at Auguste.

"How would you know? You prefer blowing up buildings to get your way. And look at what that got you." Mello stood up at this, and reached for his handgun, but Auguste cut him off.

"Here's your picture. I went through the trouble of getting it for you since you'd probably end up killing Near, and I can't let that happen." He said, and flung a single picture at Mello's direction. It was a picture she didn't recognize; one of him at Wammy's around four years ago. Mello caught the picture and glared at Auguste before turning back and looking at CL. She was confused, obviously. She had no idea why Auguste was there, because he would never look out for Mello. Which meant he came here for her, but why?

She saw Mello start to leave and stood up and came after him, but Auguste caught her arm. Both she and Mello turned to look at him. He had never done something like that before.

"You don't need her anymore, right?" Auguste asked Mello, who looked ready to break someone's neck.

"Yes." He said almost immediately, and Auguste let up his grip on CL. He sighed, before reverting once more to his usual self. It was strange to see all these mood swings on Auguste, he was usually just cheery or stoic.

"CL. Assuming you'll stay with Goldilocks here for your own personal goal of catching Kira, I suppose I'll get out of your way. You know how to contact me if you ever need anything. Bye-bye~!" said Auguste, who was out the door with a wave.

Mello, irritated, followed after him not shortly after. CL followed, but Halle stopped her when she got to her door. She turned to look at Halle, who pulled out three pictures from her pocket. She pulled CL closer and whispered.

"Mello told me to get these immediately, when I first leaked him information. He said it was an emergency. I know now they belong to you. Here." She said, and handed her the pictures. Then she closed the door abruptly in her face.

_Pictures?_ She looked at the first one, which was one Cody, who at the time was around nine or ten at the time, took. He liked taking pictures of kids of the Wammy's house, since a lot had interesting qualities about their looks. He only took a few of her, because she was one of the more "normal" ones, but when he did he'd always take one right after she turned to look at him when he called her name. When she asked why he told her it was because he could get a better shot of her eyes because she always looked bored or impassive. It made sense, looking at it. Another odd thing about Cody was that he never anybody the picture of them, but kept it. Of course, when some would leave, he'd give it to them, and they always looked so happy. Matt had told her, after stealing one of himself from Cody that it was actually very odd, because you remembered the moment of when he took it but you never knew what exactly it looked like, so it was always really nostalgic and kind of weird.

She saw his point, now. In the photo, it was a sunny day, and CL had been looking out the window. Her eyes were more wide open than usual and were even lighter with the sun, which had casted a wide glare that blocked out most of the top left corner. She smiled.

The second picture was one of her with smears of chocolate all over her face. She remembered one time Matt and Ratchet had found a melted chocolate bar from one of Mello's stashes and had smeared it all over her face, stole Cody's camera, and took a picture of it. She looked more annoyed than anything, and they had screwed up her hair.

The third picture was yet another one of Cody's. Only this time he hadn't told her he'd taken it. He always told people when he took pictures of them. But not this time. It was a picture of herself and Mello in the library. It looked late out, and they were studying. She remembered that all too well; staying up till the break of dawn studying. She had her fingers through her hair, and was squinting at one of the problems. Mello was beside her, with his hand on his cheek. He was looking at her, but his hand obscured his expression. It was strange, because usually it was her looking at him while he studied.

"Are you coming?"

CL froze in her place. Mello was directly behind her, with his head resting on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He snatched the three pictures away from her and walked back down the stairs to the first floor of the apartment building, but his gaze remained on the pictures.

"Would you like to recreate this?" he teased, waving the second picture at her face.

"…Shut up."

…,,,…

Okay so I just want to know if everybody is okay with the pace these chapters are coming out? Is it just way too slow? Let me know, and always feel free to PM me.


	10. Chapter 10: We Really Shouldn't But

CL knew Auguste missed her, and that was probably the sole reason for him even showing up at Halle's in the first place. After all, he was the type of man who preferred not to see the face of anybody he's done wrong to in the past. It had nothing to do with guilt, she doubted he was even capable of such a thing, but more or less as a cover up. Some like to go back to check if there were any kinks, some do it for a personal reason and like to see the person they did wrong unravel, and some are just sadistic like that. But Auguste did almost everything for professional reasons, and toyed with the rest. Specifically Rod Ross, the high up mafia boss that coincidentally hid Mello for two years. But even a man as professional as Auguste still had personal uh… "feelings", and he missed his companion greatly. Of course, being her caretaker for around five years, the feeling was mutual with both parties.

So when he called asking if she would like to be his accomplice yet again, she, as always, immediately accepted. Only this time he had said it had been for _personal_ reasons. And when Auguste said _personal_, it almost always meant Rod Ross would be involved. She wondered where their mutual hatred stemmed from, but whenever she asked he always just laughed and said, _"Rod is just one of those people who you can't help but mess with."_

Personally she found it funny. As much respect as she had to people as high up as Ross in a society such as the Mafia, to be so unraveled by one, singular man. So many subordinates at his disposal, and yet he never accomplished anything when it came to one upping Auguste. Although, what's a mob to a king, right? Of course, Auguste was no king, but sometimes CL felt like he was. He could very well be a king. He was manipulative, powerful, talented, _intelligent. _But even kings liked to play around once in a while, and Ross was Auguste's favorite playmate. Though more like a mouse to a cat than one toddler to another.

Nevertheless, she accepted, and now she had to inform Mello, who was still on the first couple drafts of his plan to catch Kira. He had given her little details, but that was it. Matt knew much more than she, and although he felt guilty because of it, he figured Mello had his reasons. He wasn't the type to hold onto a grudge for an entire five years, after all.

CL pushed the door leading to Mello's room and informed him of Auguste's proposition. He denied her the second she mentioned his name.

"Well why not?" she inquired, looking more or less impassive, though very clearly annoyed.

"Because… Because I don't trust that guy. I feel like he's using you for his own personal reasons, and when he's done he'll dispose of you when it's most convenient. He's a manipulative guy. You should know that." He replied, as though it was third grade common knowledge.

"Isn't that more or less what you're doing?" she teased, though he definitely took it seriously. He dropped the pencil he was using a few seconds before and paused. She watched his back slowly rise and fall from the doorway, before realizing that what she said actually had some truth to it. Really, it was completely true. She left and went to close the door behind her.

"That's no-" Mello started, but stopped when he heard the click to the door.

…,,,…

Around an hour or so Auguste arrived, apparently he was staying at a local hotel a few miles away from Mello and Matt's apartments, "just in case".

CL had her hand on the handle of the door before feeling a strong grip on her shoulder.

"I'm coming with." Mello said, and CL knew that there was no persuading him otherwise. He was a stubborn man.

"…Okay." She reluctantly agreed, and he followed closely behind as they got into Auguste's pure white Lexus LFA. A very expensive car, but damn was it nice. Mello looked at it skeptically, as though it was stolen. Actually, he looked at almost everything Auguste owned as though it was stolen. But other than the prized pistol he gave CL less than a year earlier the only thing he's stolen and kept was information. Very important information, but that was little more than a hard drive. A hard drive could be replaced, of course, but the information inside it could not. Sometimes he returned them, though, after he had copied the files onto his own computer of course. But at least they were gift wrapped. Seriously.

"You should take your own car, Goldilocks. Just in case we get split up." Auguste informed him with his usual cheery smile. Mello didn't reply, merely gave him a lethal death glare, and even obeyed.

He followed Auguste through downtown LA and out and into a space similar to the old hideout, of which Mello promptly blew up. He pulled up in the parking lot, which was odd. Usually they parked around a block behind, unless the situation would probably need a means of a quicker escape.

Auguste walked a ways in front of them, with Mello's eyes burning holes into his back.

"I'll head in first. CL, tell Mello the plan and you guys can head in after me. You probably won't have very much trouble." He said without pausing and loaded his pistol.

"Uh… Okay…" She said, and watched him enter the building.

"Okay so-" CL began, or, at least, tried to.

"Who's he after anyway." Mello demanded, cutting her off.

"Actually, Rod Ross. Hope there weren't any strong feelings." She muttered. Mello just about doubled over. 

"Rod Ross is already dead; he died in the hideout before the Task Force even made it in. Sorry, but he lied to you. I say we leave immediately." He hissed, and took a step forward.

"Then who the hell is he after?!" She exclaimed, though she already knew he wouldn't any greater idea than she would. Quickly she ran into the entrance Auguste took with Mello begrudgingly following.

:

As Auguste stated previously the halls were pretty much wiped out. Men in nice suits laid groaning on the ground, most with their guns still vacant in their back pocket. Auguste having already taken care of them. Now all they had to do was follow the bloody trail of men with bullets in their ankles and they'd reach Auguste eventually. They had been following the same trail for around five minutes. That was impressive, even for Auguste, considering they were sprinting through the corridors. Finally, after a couple stories of steps and a minimal amount of subordinates later the trail came to an end at an important looking door. The stereotypical door which led to the room of a mafia boss. Which was, probably, who Auguste was after. Maybe he hadn't known Ross was dead. But then, if that's true, then how the hell had he come up with this place?

CL approached the door and cautiously pushed it open, pistol ready. Of course, Mello had brought his own handgun, so he had his out too.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't Goldilocks and… Goldilocks?" A man with dark, short, spiked up hair, dark sunglasses, and a nice suit spoke to them from his spot in a comfortable looking leather chair. There were only two guys left, both holding up automatic machine guns and pointing them at the three of them. Auguste stood a ways away from the man sitting down, with a gun in his right hand like the rest of them.

"What took you so long? I might be dead if you hadn't shown up any later." He mused, still smiling.

"Oh its no use, Auguste. You were done for anyway. Hey, by the way, Leatherface? I hope you don't mind that we stole your method," The man in the chair sneered, and Auguste tensed tenfold. It finally dawned on Auguste, and he felt stupid for not recognizing it sooner. Abruptly, he turned to face CL.

"CL, leave. Leave now. Don't come back. No matter what happens, _don't come back here._" His face was full of worry and discontent. He turned his head sharply at the man in the suit and his finger moved began to itch on the trigger.

"_Go!"_ He shouted, and Mello grabbed CL's wrist and ran through the hallways. Suddenly he was reminded of a certain incident years ago in a certain asylum, but this was no time to reminisce. CL could still hear the man's voice, which she had come to despise in a very short five seconds.

"Oh don't worry, Auguste. We still have things to discuss here." She couldn't hear his reply. The door to the stairway had already closed. They continued running, even out of the entrance. They even managed to get all the way to his Mello's car. He unlocked it and managed to open the driver's door before a large bang, all too familiar, all too close to home, erupted throughout the lot. He froze completely and looked up. CL was the same way, but she still remembered one important thing, on instinct. _Auguste._

"_Auguste!_" She shouted, running towards the lighted building. Mello regained his senses, like someone pressing the play button on a remote, and ran towards her.

He managed to catch up, and quickly draped his arm firmly around her stomach. She struggled in his grip, calling out her companion's name, before giving up and slumping down onto the ground. Mello slumped down with her, still keeping a firm grip.

CL felt as thought the entire world had ended. They had entered the apocalypse. She couldn't really tell who was dying anymore. Might as well be both. She felt the strong and familiar grip of Mello grasped tightly around her, pulling her up. Begrudgingly she stood, and let him lead her towards his car. He put her in the backseat of his car and ran to the driver's side. The car backed out and squealed away, back to Mello's apartment.

The ride was silent, which was expected. Mello didn't really think at all except on driving. Every once in a while he'd check his mirror to look at CL, who sat there silently with her head in her hands. He, quite frankly, couldn't stand that look, which made him even angrier. By the time he pulled up to his apartment he was already at the boiling point. He sat there for a long time, head on the steering wheel, going through and re-thinking a mixed jumble of things. CL stayed in the car too, for about two minutes since he'd pulled up. Eventually she opened the door and weakly stood up, before practically limping to the door. This jammed Mello out of his reverie, and he quickly followed suit.

Okay, he thought. Get it together. Help CL first, that's the top priority. But… how? She seemed to be the type who wanted to be left alone when it came to things like these. He knew that's what he would have wanted… probably. This could prove more difficult than he originally expected.

He entered his/her room and saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, the exact same way as she was in the car, only her trench coat was off. He was kind of surprised, to be completely honest, to see that she was wearing _his _shirt, the shirt he had given her that day after the first ex-

Damn.

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He didn't have to.

"I'm fine. You can leave me alone now." She said from her spot on the bed. He had never heard her sound so… sober. As though she knew when the end of the world was coming, and it wasn't too far away. It was horrifying really.

He didn't say anything, but instead walked over to her and sat down next to her, taking off his red jacket and draping it around her shoulders. Her breathing slowed and she looked up from her hands. Her eyes finally became visible, a melting pot of emotions. She looked up at him with surprise. He gazed at her through half lidded eyes and brought his right hand up to cup her cheek. He inched forward and pressed his lips against her's, and she remained mandatory. He deepened their kiss, pressing against her more firmly, and she leaned back onto the bed, on top of his jacket. Her hands gripped his shirt like they were her life force, and his hand went to her hair, gently pulling it out of the band's grasp and putting it instead on his own wrist.

The feeling of her fingers across his skin felt like liquid fire, and he felt like he could continue doing this forever, which, usually, was the time which he knew he should stop.

His hands grabbed hers and reluctantly pried them off of him, and broke the kiss. She looked up at him with understanding eyes and let her hands fall to her sides. His head moved to the side of her head and he whispered in her ear, hot breath hitting the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

"Get some sleep." He mumbled, and kissed her forcedly again before getting off onto his knees and sliding off the bed, and shut the door behind him. It was then that it hit him what had just occurred, and he collapsed on the couch, and crashed.

…,,,…

I just really really really felt the need to get this chapter out here so I reeeeaaaally hope it doesn't suck.


	11. Chapter 11: Have a Present

CL slowly opened her eyes, blinking the blurriness away despite her eyelid's plea to close them forever. A figure stood in front of her, leaning over her slightly. A man, most likely, by the flatness of his chest. He had dark, floppy, messy hair and his eyes were like black pits, with dark circles suggesting a severe lack of sleep. He had a loose white, long sleeved T-shirt on and baggy blue jeans. He was barefoot and he was leaned over, as though carrying a heavy, invisible load on his back. He had a small yet content smile on his face and he was nibbling on his thumbnail, though not in the way of a person with a bad habit with nervousness. It was with no doubt whatsoever, though she'd only met him a few rare times, this man was L. Though something seemed odd. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be dead.

He was looking at her from above, and she realized she was laying curled up in a chair. A nice leather chair. Like the ones back in Wammys… wait, she was at Wammys. In the same room where she had first met him. She also felt… smaller. Not like the way people feel like they're less important, but actually, physically, smaller. CL adjusted herself into a more comfortable, sitting position, and looked down at herself. She had a light, white T-shirt on, a pair of black shorts, and black stockings. Which was what she normally wore at Wammy's. Her hair also felt lighter, and it was shorter. Her hand went to her stomach, and felt nothing there. Feeling lost, she looked up at the raven haired man standing before her.

"Hello CL. So nice to see you awake." He said, his voice slightly muffled by the thumbnail.

"I'm sure you're feeling a bit lost, only natural given your current predicament. But for now, I think it would be best if you didn't question it just yet. I want you to take a look at yourself, think about how you feel right now." He said, and moved away to the side to reveal a mirror. She remained mandatory in her chair, and stared at the image in front of her. It was a revelation, really. She was so smaller, her hair was much neater, and her eyes seemed almost big.

"Yes, look at you." He muttered, looking at the mirror like her. He moved away, behind her now, and put his hands on her shoulders. He leaned down, his head next to hers.

"You're young, you're innocent, you've your entire life ahead of you… take away the I.Q. difference and you're just like any other normal girl. This is what you wanted, right? Actually, you probably want to pursue a much more exciting life." He said, and for a moment, it was went away. Auguste was just another strange name. Her eyes regained their innocent blue hue. Mello was just a brat who studied too much and just so happened to help her sleep. The most important thought was finding a way which simply didn't exist to beat Matt in one of his many games. She should hurry to the cafeteria before breakfast ended. Why was she sitting in this room, in front of a big mirror? She already knew what she looked like. How did she even get here in the first place? Why was L here? Shouldn't he be busy catching Kira? Was she in trouble or something?

"But unfortunately," L said, and moved away from her chair to the side of the mirror. Her eyes traveled back to the mirror in front of her.

"sometimes the thing you yearn for most ends up being the thing you wish to destroy." He finished in a darker tone, and suddenly everything went red. It all came back; Auguste, the explosions, the familiar dull pain in her stomach. She winced at first, but looked back at the mirror, and it almost seemed as though her image was distorted. She stood, and the back of her black trench coat fell down to the back of her knees. She could feel her long, choppy hair against the small of her back again. Her fringe fell against her forehead and her eyes became dull and fearful. She remained transfixed on her own reflection, and L spoke up once more.

"Ah, not so nice anymore, is it? I'm sure not what you expected. It's funny though, isn't it? How people become so familiar with their own selves they forget what they really are from someone else's perspective. That's why so many try to be someone else, right? Though I suppose that would make me a bit of a hypocrite." He walked back in front of her, in front of the mirror, forcing her to focus solely on him.

"But you see, I was gifted, CL. Not only with intelligence. I hated it at first, you know. I thought it made me seem horrible, demonic even. But I suppose things happen for a reason. At first, I'm sure I was the only one who had this gift, but now it seems it also belongs to others as well. But I was born with this gift, you see, so I faced no consequences. And I assure you, they very much did. Whether or not these consequences are worth it, my friend, is up for debate. The bad thing about it, though, is that they're all rooting for the same team. And that team is definitely not yours. Which is why I'm here. I can give that gift to you temporarily, without any consequences. It can be yours… and I can finish in your life what I started in mine. Please, CL, we can do this for you, for me… for Auguste."

He was looking at her with such an intense stare it was though she was hypnotized. She felt almost safe, almost. It wasn't the same safety she felt in his presence at Wammy's.

"What do you mean… don't manipulate me." She said, looking back at him, her voice like a small child's.

"I'm not manipulating you, dear… I like you, actually, and its human nature to help out those you like… that, and you can help me, in a metaphorical sense, defeat my own enemy. It's actually quite a generous deal on my part… though giving my nature I suppose that just shows you how pathetically desperate I am. Also, I think it'd prove much more interesting." He said, and put his hands on the side of her head, bending his knees down a little so their eyes were level.

"What do you say, CL? For A? For your friend?" At this point she was so lost she'd take any direction she could find. She didn't even know what L was talking about.

"Okay, L." she said, and the faintest smile graced his lips.

"I knew I could count on you. Someone who taps into their emotions every once in a while. This should be fun, CL. Oh, and two more things. One is that I have a puzzle for you to solve, A kinda got me into that. Also, you should know, I'm not L."

With that, he smiled, and his eyes seemed to drill into hers for a moment, and he was gone.

Then, she woke up.


	12. Chapter 12: How to Crush an Empire

She woke up that morning like any other morning, didn't feel any different than usual. It was a weird dream, she'll admit, but it seemed that it was just that; a dream. She wasn't sure what she expected, it's not like her rationality assumed there would be a gift-wrapped present lying on her lap when she woke up. She also wasn't sure why she checked anyways. Even though it was just a dream, for some reason, it hung around her head like a memory. Most dreams are clear when she first wakes up, but then break away into smaller and smaller fragments until nothing more remains. Yet this one hung around like an annoying fly buzzing around her head. A fly she was unable to swat away. Her mind kept coming back to it, and she scanned through the events that unfolded inside her head and she came back to the same revelation that probably sparked the strange pseudo nightmare. _Auguste. _

What was that even about. Who was the person he seemed so intent on ridding? His mind was so drilled toward killing this one person, this one, singular person, who she had never heard of. She thought she knew all of his enemies, or at least the ones that were still alive, as well as some, however, who were not. So why not this one? Tried as she might, she just couldn't wrap her head around as to why he would leave out someone seemingly so important. Though maybe the most derailing occurrence in all of this was that he lied to her. He said it was Rod Ross he was after, but he had already died prior to the explosion at the hideout. Sometimes he had simply forgotten, with other things buzzing around in his overactive mind, to tell her the people they were to assassinate. It had slipped his mind a number of times in the past, but he had never outright lied to her. Even if he didn't yet know Rod was dead, he still knew it certainly wouldn't be him in the hideout. Not much of a hideout anymore, she thought. More like a barren wasteland of rubble and ash. _Just like him,_ she thought, but quickly shook off the dark assumption that crawled into her brain at all times of the day. Auguste never had taught her anything about physical strength. Mental and emotional strength was a given, because that was obviously essential to any branch on the tree of Assassination companies.

He focused much more on speed, stealth, and balance. Balance for aiming, stealth for sneaking into secure locations, and speed for, well, running away. There was a lot of running away incorporated with their line of work. Much more than Auguste was ever comfortable with sharing truthfully, but it was essential and it worked and it was a bitch for those that were trying to catch you. But nothing directly aimed at physical strength. He had taught her that when faced with a close ranged confrontation, never to use the fist, but instead the elbow. It certainly worked, and her forearms weren't actually that bad with all the aiming she did, so she could block well with her forearms, and then jolt them forward to stun the opponent. Auguste liked this move particularly because although being hit in the face with a fist isn't exactly what one would assume the highlight of their day, being hit in the face with an elbow is a bit more degrading, and Auguste particularly loved making the enemy feel as small as possible. You can knock down an entire embassy, but if the one in charge isn't broken, it'll just be re-built with better lasers and present itself as an even bigger problem then it was before you brought it down. CL has heard many stories where colleagues of Auguste had left a person with many wounds, but not enough scars. And eventually it was their turn to fall, without being given the opportunity to learn from their mistakes. Sometimes it was sad, but sometimes it was actually quite humorous. Depending on how fond you were to the person, of course.

So yes, she had more experience in insults and degrading someone than she did with arm wrestles. Oh well. However, like she said, she had speed, which coincided with one's legs, obviously. Her punches were more than lacking, but her kicks were a different story altogether. Halle definitely wasn't slacking in that department either, but she was more of a generalist, whereas CL was more of a specialist. Halle had impressive strength, connections, and probably pretty okay speed too, nor was she probably lacking in the intellectual department. CL, however, had very few, but very important connections, lacking strength, more than decent stamina, and outstanding speed. Halle was trained like a CIA agent, CL as an assassin. If they had to switch jobs for a day they'd be killed off in the first few hours. But she had respect for Halle, mainly because she wasn't on a side. She wasn't completely 100% team Mello, but she did provide information as well as working closely with Near.

Ah, Near. Mello was conjuring up a plan to confront him, and to do it soon, since time was of the essence in this scenario. It was common knowledge with anyone who managed to stay at Wammy's past a week's time that he hated Near, with a passion. Near, however, remained unaffected and generally impassive to him. She liked those qualities in a person, but she did sense something off about him. Because of Mello's burning hatred she didn't get the opportunity to really get to know him any better than the "albino sheep", but she did talk to him on one occasion. It was before she was directly affiliated with Mello and Matt, in her first few days at Wammy's House.

It was getting somewhat dark and curfew would be over soon, so she decided to take the opportunity to wander the halls with a lot less kids bustling around during the day. She came across a small somewhat closed off room down the hall of the main lobby and peeked inside out of curiosity. She saw Near, with his unusual pale appearance sitting down hunched over a puzzle of tiny little pieces, almost all of which were white. She had heard talk about how weird he was and that's why nobody talked to him, but he certainly didn't look hostile.

"I told you already I- oh, hello there. You must be the new girl I heard about once. I'm Near." He stopped himself when he realized the girl standing in the doorway was not, in fact, Linda, but someone he hadn't seen here before. Obviously she had to be the new girl.

"Uh, yeah. I'm CL. I like your puzzle, very artistic." She said from the doorframe, and Near smiled, a somewhat rare occurrence, but he kind of liked that bit of sarcasm every once in a while, in the off chance (in his case at least), that it wasn't meant to be derogatory. He never used sarcasm, because he found it personally to be pointless. Their conversation ended like that. It was short, but it established a mutual relationship between the two. They had never spoken again, but they still preferred each other over at least half of the other students. Her because she didn't reprimand him for not going out and "making friends with the other kids", and him because, well, he didn't bullshit you. She found that to be a pleasant quality.

After having yet another of her pseudo episodes of mourning over Auguste, CL yawned and stretched. It was the best feeling of euphoria she had experienced since… well, probably since last night, now that the memory came back to her. Mello had a horrible way with handling mourning people, but when it came to her he was a professional. Speaking of said blonde, she should probably find out when they were leaving L.A. to get back to Japan, where the SPK and the Japanese Task Force were currently residing. She rolled out of bed and wandered through the halls, looking for her current roommate. She checked the halls and the few rooms, but with no such luck. Then she tried the kitchen and found a yellow post it note with a coffee stain the left corner on the refrigerator which read the following:

_Left to go get food. Be back soon._

_Don't kill yourself. _

_-M_

He had such a way with words. She pulled the note off and threw it in the garbage. Despite not feeling so hungry, she felt an urge to open the refrigerator. Her hand went to the handle with a strange eagerness, maybe she was actually starving and her emotions were playing tricks on her. She already knew the fridge would be empty; they only ever ate things a typical college kid would eat, minus the leftovers, so their fridge remained barren and empty. Still, she opened the door and to her surprise, she actually found something inside.

Two large jars of strawberry jam.

…,,…

Okay so sorry about the lack of interaction, there will be more of that next time I swear, I just felt like establishing a bit more on CL's personal views on Near and a little bit of what she learned from Auguste in her training days. I felt inspired by the BB novel with the jam I couldn't help but add the little surprise at the end. Tell me what you think and/or what I should expand on, or just ya know, do nothing. I'm a pretty good professional at doing nothing. It's 2 am and I should stop typing now.


	13. Chapter 13: Go the Fuck to Sleep

_Don't kill yourself._ Very poetic indeed, Mr. Mihael. Of course it's not like he could teleport back in time through some sort of paradox and rewrite it, and she wasn't one who usually took anything he said too seriously. That was usually the problem, actually. He'd say something and she'd take it so lightly, like his existence was a constant joke. It wasn't him in particular, though, she usually did that with almost everyone. Matt was understandable, but he could bet it has gotten her into some trouble in the past. It was different from Wammy's. There, when she first came in, she would be wary of him, of everyone really. Though most of the kids who came in were the same way. Some never lost that trait. She, however, had received a double whammy when first coming in, having met him and Matt on the very first day. About five minutes into her first day, actually. It was mainly Matt's fault, because that's just how he was with cute girls, especially cute girls who would be living right next door. He and Matt had already been living there for quite some time, same goes for his couch. It was _his_ couch, nothing else (except the chocolate) really mattered. By the time she came he already blended into the ragged piece of furniture. The lights were always off, too, due to Matt's almost vampiric approach to sunlight. Or any kind of light that didn't emit from a TV screen, really.

She had jumped when she first realized he was there, since Matt was always visible with a halo like glow around his body from the TV that he was plugged into just as much as the controller was. He invited her inside without averting his eyes from the screen and she had came inside their domain, and jumped when he spoke up from his camouflage that was the couch. It was rather humorous, to him at least, though she seemed slightly annoyed. It faded though, and she looked at him with almost open-minded eyes, studied him, calculated, then averted back to Matt, who, like a courteous gentlemen, invited her to sit and play video games with him long into the night, and that was how it all started. Every now and then he'd take a loud bite of his chocolate bar, for no other reason then to make her jump. Then she became immune, and his fun was rui- actually, it wasn't. Never found out why. Never cared.

He glanced at the three passports sitting in his open dashboard. He had managed to get a hold of a few authentic ones through his…er, connections back in Japan. CL already had hers, of course, having business already in America. It was incredibly convenient, especially for him, though not so much for her. He questioned rather frequently if he had made the correct choice of dragging her into the whole Kira mess. He knew she didn't like to get involved in such large and extreme situations, so much so as to make headlines several times, and even get it's own TV show. Which was horrid, by the way. She normally took on small retrieval actions or assassinations, something that correlated pay with the amount of work put into it. The Kira case offered no pay, and only personal satisfaction. She usually coincided that with pay, though, so any logic involving her into the case was close to non-existent. But she was in it for the same reason any other top-ranking Wammy's kid would be; to avenge their justified, sugar-induced leader, L.

Only she had more than just L to avenge now, adding the strange events leading to the destruction of Auguste to the mix. Now it would come down to which was more personal to her; L, or Auguste. She'd only met L a few times, and Auguste had been her caretaker for about…five years now? It was only logical for her to be more solely focused on Auguste right now, but how could she? As far as he knew she didn't know anything about the strange man they had seen for a few seconds back at the old building, and said man didn't seem to be interested in a suicide pact, so there was a very, very high chance he managed to escape the building safely and soundly. However, topping it all, was the fact that someone had hotwired and stolen a car at around the same time the building exploded. He knew this from a local newspaper which did a story on the strange matter of events about three days after. CL had gone back to the scene the very next day after to take Auguste's car back, so it wasn't his. The hotwiring, of course, very well could've been a coincidence, but he still got a weird feeling about the situation.

Maybe going to Japan would be some kind of fresh start, where she could breathe for a little bit and focus more so on the Kira case. Auguste, too, had a great appreciation towards L so she felt the need to carry out her own judgment and put and end to Kira before starting on whoever it was wearing the sunglasses. She could leave everything back behind in America and… get back to it later. He knew he was thinking selfish again, but he needed her, if not just to _be_ there, so if he had to do some convincing, he would do it. She just might hate him for a little while is all.

…,,,…

It was a Wednesday, about 9 a.m. Mello and CL were currently sitting it their (lucky them) business class seats on an airplane headed to Tokyo, Japan. How Mello had managed to get them business class seats, as well as have them sitting together, she'd never know, but she was thankful. It was a spacious airplane, with four seats in each row. She was currently occupying two seats, her back leaning on Mello and her legs bent up. She was tired, and his shoulder was a comfortable headrest. He didn't seem to mind too much, either. Though normally this would be considerably uncomfortable due to his leather addiction (not like he let her do this often, which he did) but today he didn't seem to mind much, or at all really, about whatever the hell he was wearing. Sweatpants and a gray, over sized hoodie. She herself was wearing dark sweatpants, too, and a long sleeved, gray shirt. They did sort of match, which they honestly didn't even notice until a small elderly couple back at the L.A. airport whispered about how cute the two of them were to themselves. Or at least they probably thought they were whispering. Mello didn't seem to appreciate this much but didn't say anything and only tensed up a bit. He did the same thing when she first put her head on his shoulder as a headrest so she could actually get some sleep, because, low and behold, the same small couple were sitting in the same airplane in seats about five rows behind them. He let out an almost too loud sigh, but relaxed.

"Oh, am I bothering you?" she teased, expecting a witty retort because that was what she always received.

"Huh? No, you're… fine. I'm just… thinking." He said, to her surprise, and sharply picked his nail, almost like a nervous habit. In some aspects, though, his answer didn't surprise her; it was his honesty.

"So stop thinking for a little bit. Just a little bit. Just relax." She spoke softly, but sternly, and returned her head to his shoulder. He slumped down a bit, but though he'd never admit it her presence did seem to make him feel more comfortable. Even though they were in business class, which was surprisingly spacious, he always felt a little cramped and tied down in airplanes. Where he sat didn't matter, he'd always feel slightly claustrophobic. Probably because once you were on and it took off, you weren't getting off. There were exits, sure, and it was fine by him if somebody else wanted to try jumping out of an airplane and survive, but he wasn't willing to do that any time soon.

"I can't stand airplanes." He muttered, more to himself than anything. He wasn't expecting a response, but somehow she always managed to hear him.

"Why?" she asked inquisitively, with genuine interest, her voice groggy from lack of sleep. He really wished from time to time that maybe she _didn't_ hear him, or simply chose to ignore him for once. It wasn't that he minded the attention, it was the exact opposite actually (not like he himself really recognized that), it just made him feel like he was running out of secrets.

"It's the food. It sucks." He lied, turning his head away from her and slumping down even more in his seat.

"Mm." she replied, before finally closing her eyes for a much needed nap. Apparently, it was a very obvious lie. She always gave short, vague answers when she knew he was lying, and it did make him feel a _little_ bit guilty. He thought about what she had said earlier, about him thinking too much. Over-thinking could be equally devastating as not thinking at all. If you over-think everything, your plans become too complicated, things start to become too complex, and then you start to blow things out of proportion, and everything becomes stressful and much more complicated then what it actually is. Part of the reason L liked sweets so much, so he told him, was that they relaxed him and he could think easier. But you couldn't bring food on an airplane, which included chocolate. Oh well, he certainly tried. But he was feeling rather stressed lately, and sleep was much more difficult to attain than usual, even with CL there, and that usually did the trick. They were all indicators of over-thinking, and if he kept up the pattern he'd surely form a plot hole in his plans eventually. Now that he thought about it… he was pretty tired… and the seats were pretty comfortable…

…,,,…

"I remember when we were their age…" Mello woke up when he had heard an elderly woman, whose voice was vaguely familiar, mention as she passed by his seat to the front of the airplane. He blinked a few times, wondering why everything was upside down. He blinked and pulled his head up, which was for some reason hung over the edge of the first seat, and held himself up with his arms. He was also on his back, and adding even more to his confusion, was CL lying on top of him. He then realized that the elderly woman who had just passed him was the same as the one back at the airport. Apparently she and her presumed husband decided to be the last ones out to avoid the rush, and now he and CL were the last ones on the plane.

"Hey… you should really… probably wake up now." He said, nudging her. She groaned, and the arms around his waist tightened their grip- wait, since when was her arms around his waist? She then came to the sudden conclusion that he had come to just moments earlier, and sat up, feeling even more tired then before.

They hurriedly regained their posture when they noticed a rather stern looking flight attendant approaching, grabbed their bags, and left.

Once in the hotel in Japan, they didn't even bother making it to a bed before dropping their things immediately and crashing the exact same way on the couch.

..,,,..

Matt, who had come on a later flight to finish up some business back in America, smiled warmly at the sight. But he couldn't help but wonder how a guy who had never complimented anyone in his entire life could actually manage… what Mello was currently managing right now. He noticed how almost territorial he looked, even when sleeping. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, for sure. Most likely violent, but interesting.

…,,,…

Next chapter will bring back an old character, so a little foreshadowing there. I added the airplane scene because he seems like the type of guy to over-think literally everything, which might have been one of the reasons he ultimately lost. I have no idea, really, but hey, I thought it was cute.


	14. Chapter 14: Dial Tone

2:00 a.m.

That was what the clock read the last time CL checked it. Ratchet had come to stay with them for a little while, but had made it very clear he wanted no part in whatever they had against Kira, unless it was absolutely necessary, to the point of which one of their own lives be at risk. Which was a little controversial, considering their lives were constantly at risk. Still, he was very welcomed, though Mello certainly had his doubts. All of his plans had a risk factor to them, and taking that away would leave him just like confined, locked up in his own security, with his own sense of safety as his shackles. _Just like Near._

No, he was the mastermind, the sole genius of their group, and the same thing that made him so valuable was the same thing that cut their chances of survival at 50/50. It was a rough estimate. The more plans he concocted, the less chances of them surviving became. Probably. Life was a difficult thing to measure in percentages. Perhaps it was like a coin, or maybe it was a game of chance, and the more chances you took, the less probable of a good outcome.

_No._ There was a reason they were winning at this little game of life, and it certainly wasn't something so stupid as the concept of fate. They had skills, they were talented. They had resources. They gave results. They refused to let the odds of survival and death have power over them. They didn't choose their own fate, that's much too cliché. Instead, they ignored it. This could be a good or a bad thing, depending on whether fate was like a little kid, who did whatever it possibly could for attention, including mass misfortune, or fate was like an mature adult, who was able to ignore them right back.

She really should sleep. It probably wasn't healthy giving inanimate objects human characteristics. But it was always difficult to sleep. Sleep did not come easy to a person like her. A person who wasn't even called by their own name. It didn't matter much, really. So long as she knew her own name. And unless she somehow fell into a coma, and forgot the first half of her entire life, that wouldn't happen. Her old family had called her by her own name more times then it was possible to count, and L had even said her real name once, and everything L had said to anybody seemed to be ingrained in their minds forever. Jesse, she said mentally to herself, 'Jesse is my real name'.

_Is it, really?_

The small, uninvited voice surprised her. Her eyes bolted open, and she was unable to hold back the small gasp that flew from her throat.

'**Jesse is my real name. My name is Jesse! I am Jesse!' **She yelled in her head, hoping it would reach whoever it was that dared question her entire being.

_Are you sure? _

There is was again. Just as calm and conceited as it always was. She knew what it was- or, who it was. Well… not exactly who, but she recognized it, nonetheless.

'My name is Jesse… that's what I've been called for half of my life. I know my real name!' If someone had walked in on her now, staring up at the ceiling, at nothing, which such an angry, confused look on her face, they probably would have though Wammys was an institution for the mentally insane, and that she should probably go back.

_Well, depends on your definition of the word 'name'. And since I can see into your thoughts and all your basic logic, I can say with confidence, it is not. _

She was pretty sure she had just growled, though the pure anger rolling off of her in fiery waves proved to be a bit of a distraction. Her hands clenched the sheets, and she sat up on the bed, probably a little too fast, seeing as she now felt light headed.

'**If Jesse's not my name, what is.' **She snarled at the voice, but received no answer for several moments. Or, at least, it felt like several moments.

_Now what kind of mentor would I be if I just let everything come so easily to you? _

She twisted and her head collapsed into her pillow, letting out a menacing scream, muffled by the pillow. What kind of mentor is this?

And now sleep was no longer an option, and she wondered if it ever would be until she found out the real answer to her question; her real name. She saw no reason for the voice to lying to her, but she doubted that, since he'd have nothing to gain. Yet, it made no sense. Surely "Jesse" was the name written on her birth certificate, or else L wouldn't have called her that. Or had he known what kind of impact it would've had on her at that point in her life, having just lost her family? Wouldn't he had told her eventually? She was there for at least an entire year. Or had it simply escaped his mind?

Auguste hadn't even called her Jesse. He would've known her real name, and he would've called her by her real name, because that was the type of man he was. If he had known her real name, he wouldn't called her by it, and he would've let her call him by his own real name. And yet, they remained for so many years knowing each other by alias.

She jumped up, and lurched for her cell phone on the night table beside her bed. Frantically she punched in the phone number, and hit the 'Call' button. She pressed it eagerly up to her ear, and waited, her face eager with anticipation. She counted the rings inside her head, each time her voice raising by at least one octave. Finally, after five rings, she heard a familiar click.

"Yes, this is Wammy's, how may I help you-" An old, scratchy voice answered.

"Roger." She interrupted, growing ever more impatient.

"Ah CL. What is it?" he asked, sounding tired.

"Roger, tell me my name. My real name." she said, desperation in her voice.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten, CL. Your name is Je-" she cut him off.

"No! My real name isn't Jesse! I know that now. Now tell me my name. _Tell me my real name." _she said, her voice firm.

". . ." No response. Just as she was about to ask him again, she heard a click, and a gasp escaped from her voice. Several short, annoying sounds blared from the phone, as she sat there, staring at nothing ahead of her, slowing moving the phone away from her ear. _He hung up on me._ She shut the phone, and rapidly threw it against the wall. It bounced back, unharmed. She laid back down, and wrapped herself within her bed covers, defeated.

_I just want to know my name._

…,,,…

Sorry this one is short, and somewhat of a letdown, I just needed to set this up for something more important in the plot. And also sorry for no Mello, but don't worry, there'll be more of him next chapter.

(Probably)


	15. Chapter 15: Lets Visit Your Closet

Mello's fists clenched tighter each time he heard a sound escape her room. _Maybe I should just check._ Although, the last time he had checked, around a week ago, she was sobbing hysterically, most likely over Auguste, and he couldn't take in the sight and left just as soon as he had come. But this time, after hearing the sound of something hard being thrown against a wall, his curiosity took the better of him and his feet moved silently against the soft carpet of the apartment, following the familiar path that led to her room. On the way there he passed one of the windows looking over the city, which was still bright and full of life even at 3:00 am in the morning. Looking past that, he noticed his reflection. He had gotten over his scarring a while back, and it had honestly healed better and faster than he had expected. Of course, all things considered, he had decided to actual go back to a… "regulated" sleep schedule, and that had most likely helped tremendously.

He would have to break that schedule, that streak, the one thing he actually found _some_ pride in (as sad as it was). But he would make an exception, just this one time, for her. He pried his eyes off of his slouchy stature and extremely messy, bedhead hair and continued down the hall.

By the time he got to her room and slowly opened the door, she was curled in several layers of blankets. He could tell already by her breathing that she wasn't asleep. He had probably stood there for at least five minutes, mulling over exactly what it was he was going to do next. He could always just go back to his room, back to his schedule. Or, he could break that schedule, possibly hindering his abilities to think and put them at risk even more, and go to her and then probably waste another five minutes mulling over what he should say.

Or, he could just have both.

He walked over to her bed, not caring if she heard him or not anymore, and tugged and pulled at the nest of blankets. By now she was definitely aware of his presence, and annoyed with him that he would try to pry her warmth away from her, and clung to them as though they were her only sense of comfort. Of course, he easily over powered her, and it wasn't long before they were now on the floor, long forgotten. She looked up at him, standing over her, with fire in her normally stoic eyes. He ignored all of the questions she never asked, picked her up, and carried her the short ways to his room, plopped her on his bed, and fell in next to her. She looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, as if she wanted to tell him how pointless what he just did was, and had lost her ability to speak. He returned her gaze, as if begging her not to ask questions, to just go with it.

He still knew, though, that the last thing she needed was more sleep. She needed to have human contact. She needed to just have a _conversation_ with someone.

"Hey, CL… out of curiosity, what kind of place did you leave in before here?" It was a pointless question. Such a pointless question. He hated asking pointless questions. But he had to do at least this.

"Agauste's mansion, of course. I almost miss it, because it was so big and nice, but not really, because it was also really lonely." He winced when he heard that last part. Or when he noticed how she hadn't reprimanded him for asking something so pointless. He figured she hated being asked pointless questions just as much as he hated asking them.

"Ah… that sounds nice." He could never carry on a conversation.

"It was. We even had our own maid." She muttered, shifting her position.

"Oh." He uttered in response. He had figured she'd have lived in some form of luxury, but he hadn't thought they'd even had their own maid. Huh… CL's maid… that certainly sounded like a hassle. He wished he could have a maid sometimes. Things would be so much easier with someone to always be able to pick up the little things so you wouldn't have to worry about them. CL's maid… his own maid…

CL dressing as a French maid and succumbing to his every command.

"_Oh."_

"Hm? Did you say something?" _Do you want anything? Do you want me to do something for you? Do you want me to take this off?_

"Yes." He said before he realized he was saying anything, and immediately regretted it. He should probably be ashamed, really. He was supposed to a genius, one that was currently busy trying to rid the world of the greatest killer known to man, and he was currently fantasizing about the girl next to him as a French maid… and now he was doing it again.

"What was it?" Her voice cut through his sick perversions, and he was brought back to reality, at last. Although, he wasn't sure just how happy he was about that anyway.

"Oh, err- nothing… We should both get some rest." He stuttered, pulling the blanket higher above them.

He felt a pang of guilt when she came closer and gently snuggled up next to him, her head laying on his chest. It was like he was almost a source of comfort.

And there he had been, thinking… things he shouldn't have thought of.

"Oh, hey." She muttered, her voice groggy with sleep.

"Hm?" he asked, glad to get his mind off of… things.

"I forgot to mention, it was a live-in maid too. She was about our age now, and when she left to go back to school she left behind all of her uniforms. We still have two closets full of her uniforms. It may be pointless, but I just thought it was interesting." She said, oh so innocently, and gently fell asleep.

There was no that could've been a coincidence. She had to have known what he was thinking… right?

Her mind truly was an enigma, and it was an enigma he deeply wanted to explore.

…,,,…

I'm not sure what to think about this one… did you guys like it?


	16. Chapter 16: BFFs

"That girl needs some company, ever since Augustus' death I can't even imagine how depressed and lonely she's been." Matt spoke, with a mouth-full of the cheapest cereal they could find, as his half-dead companion approached the table. He sat down, slightly irritated by Matt's proposition. His eyes squinted slightly in thought.

"She has company." He replied, giving him a hard look. Matt looked at him like he was an idiot. He really could be an idiot, when he wasn't too busy being the second smartest genius in the entire nation.

"No, idiot, like a girl's company. Girls are like wolves, they do better in almost any situation in packs. Even just one other girl, and maybe she can actually get over this whole situation. We all need a friend." He finished off his short, stupid speech with one his more cheesiest smiles, the one he knows Mello can't stand and because of that uses it as often as he can.

"Okay… fine, maybe she needs a female friend. What are we gonna do? Open auditions?" He countered, somewhat reluctantly.

"Well God, I don't know… we'll obviously have to get someone who has a lot in common with her." He said, thinking back to all the girls he's ever tried to pick up… even though over half of them gave him a fake phone number.

"A lot in common? Should we scour colleges to find female students with a master's in arson?" he said, and Matt was started to feel a bit down about his own idea, when a light bulb went off.

"How about Halle? They both know how to handle guns and whatever, and Halle's hotel room isn't too far from here either, maybe they can be roomies!" He exclaimed, finding no problem with that whatsoever. Unlike Mello.

"Halle? The last time Halle saw CL, she gave a roundhouse kick to her face and made her nose bleed. The last time CL saw Halle, she shot her in the hand and got her fired. Plus, the only thing those really have in common is mutual dislikingness." The more Mello spoke, the more Matt's face fell with defeat.

"Oh… fine." He said, and was just about to give up, when another light bulb went off in his head. One that would probably receive less backfire from Mello… actually, it'd probably receive more.

"What about… that one Misa girl you kept me to watc-"

"No." He cut Matt off, and the two of them had a hard, two second staredown.

"Hear me out." Matt said, and continued when Mello didn't reply.

"Okay, look. CL has two very useful things going for her; she's cute, and she can kill people. Of course Misa already has at least one bodyguard, but I'm sure he's one of those brutish, steroid-induced men who don't say anything unless prompted. I may not know much about how young women think, but I highly doubt a prima donna girl like Misa would want that. CL is cute, she's in the same age range, she can understand her, probably, and she can still protect her. Misa is an actual girl with girl problems and CL is an actual girl who can help her with those girl problems… We already have Halle body guarding Takada, think of how much more useful and busy CL can be body guarding Misa?" Matt finished his short speech and sat back to watch Mello ponder over his words. He was pleasantly surprised Mello was actually considering this.

"She'll have to live with Misa, and be around her almost 24/7. Our communication will be limited… are you prepared for that?" Mello informed him, and Matt just couldn't keep in a laugh.

"Are YOU prepared for that?" He countered, and Mello shot him a cold glare, before calling in CL to the room.

"Hi…" CL said weakly, still groggy with her lack of sleep, and Matt noticed how her eyes were still slightly puffy and red. He was amazed how even with Auguste's death, she had managed not to have a mental breakdown, and neither of them, to his knowledge, had actually caught her crying yet. Of course, it still happened, she'd just somehow managed not to do it in front of him.

Matt, forever locked in his carefree mood, pulled her char closer to his and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her head next to his.

"So, my dear CL, _we _were both thinking that you should leave. You're pulling us down, and we need you out of the house!" he said, and reveled in the sharp look Mello gave him. CL was apparently still too dead to fully comprehend what he just said.

"N-no, that's not… Okay first of all, Matt, you're and idiot, and we were thinking that, with how many holes there are in our plans, that'd it'd be best to get some insight into this Yagami guy… and, similar to how Halle is like insight to his relationship with Takada-"

"You want me to act like a body guard to Misa, then eventually become like a friend, and when she trusts me enough to tell me everything about everything, I relay it to you… right?" she said, still headlocked by Matt, but now apparently awake enough to deduce his thoughts.

"Yeahprettymuch." He said.

"I'll have to live with her and be around her almost 24/7… and our communication will be limite-"

"And we've both decided we're prepared for that!" Chimed Matt, a bit too loudly for CL's taste.

"…I'll write my social security number down somewhere in case you need to get into my bank account should I die of annoyance." She said after a plause. Matt beamed.

"It's a deal, then!" he exclaimed, and she and Mello gave each other one last cautious look before nodding and agreeing.

"It's a deal."

…,,,…

"Neext!" Misa Amane called from "her" desk, waving a frilly pink pen in the air, watching the light reflect off of her perfect black nails. She was sorta surprised her boyfriend, Light, had actually allowed her to hold auditions for someone other than Mogi to accompany her place to place. She had run into an awkward young boy wearing bizarre goggles on the street the other day who kept asking her why she was always hanging around Mogi instead of with other cute, young girls. As creepy-stalkerish as he was, he had a point! Mogi was nice, but it certainly wasn't the same! She missed having another girl to talk to… which is why she asked Light to hold auditions for her, of course! Even though he didn't seem too excited about it at first…

"_But Takada has a pretty, female bodyguard…"_

And that was the end of that!

Misa looked down at her two stacks of papers. One was the applicants profile, and the other had her notes on each one… so far, it wasn't looking very good. Sure, all of them were females but… they were all big and muscley and not cute at all… not to mention incredibly boring! How did Takada ever manage to find that one woman… Haley? Hazel? Something with an H…

"Applicant #42, uh, CL Lefebvre?" Mogi, who was currently guarding at the door recited from his clipboard, butchering the unfamiliar last name.

Misa watched with divine interest and even clapped her hands together when a young, pretty woman walked through the door. She had sorta long, sorta choppy, blonde hair (slightly in need of a cut) wrapped in a ponytail and pretty odd blue eyes. Her skin was relatively pale, but she had a sharp face shape and a lithe, athletic body. She was wearing black shorts and a black, leather jacket over a loose brown shirt, and adorable tan thigh highs with worn out slippers. Her only down side was that her boobs might be slightly bigger than her own, but that was just a small detail.

"Oh, you're just adorable!" Misa squealed. CL grinned.

" Oh, you flatter me! I could never look as cute as you." She said with a, strangely, genuine smile, her sharp eyes gazing at Misa's. Misa giggled at the compliment.

"So, tell me, how does a girl as cute as you get into things like guns and beating up bad guys?" Misa asked, cocking her head to the side and twirling her pen.

"Well, when I was a little girl, I used to get harassed by creepy old men… and it bugged me so much figured I ought to go learn how to beat em up! Kinda boring story, but whenever a guy tries to touch your ass you can just be like, HALT!" She exclaimed, quickly mimicking the action of pulling her pistol out and "aiming" it at the corner of the room.

Misa giggled for about a good 20 seconds before clapping her hands and shouting at Mogi.

"We found her! We found her!" Before lunging off her seat and running up to CL, hugging her close.

"Ohh, you're going to be great, I just know it!" She shouted.

…,,,…

Hello again guys, I'm back from the dead! So this one was obviously a huge set-up one, next one you'll probably see what happens when CL (and of course, her little companion) meets Light!


	17. Chapter 17: Rug Burn

Touta Matsuda had been caught for the umpteenth time staring at the young blonde woman who had been trailing Misa. She burst in with her ever-present sickening sweetness and distracted him from his computer monitor. Light had been slightly upset that she had allowed a stranger such easy access to their headquarters without so much as a simple phone call. Misa, too excited about her new "best friend" to notice his incredibly noticeable aggravation, ignored him for possibly the first time in their relationship and immediately began introducing the new most relaxed person in the room to every one of the task force members. The woman, who looked younger and yet, in a roundabout way, older than Misa, looked on with seemingly minimal interest at each task member. Every once in a while she'd nod her head in comprehension of their names. _How stoic._

Finally, Misa got to him, and the woman's analytical stare was now fixed on him. He realized she had yet to actually speak (Misa doing it all for her), and he decided to try to entice a few words out of the stoic girl. Out of all task members, he was the only one to actually speak.

"Hello, you can call me Matsuda. It's nice to meet you." He said, offering a friendly smile. Misa seemed pleased at his effort, and glared expectantly at the woman at her side.

"CL," She replied in a soft voice, and shifted her eyes to Misa, who nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"… the pleasure is mine." She added, giving him an almost cheery smile.

He was, however slightly unnerved at the sudden smile, and took a mental note of how familiar it looked, but was distracted when Misa finally came around to introduce her to Light. The two stood stationary in front of the other, and even from the distance of his desk he could easily notice his dark, calculating eyes sizing her up. For such a young man, he was a bit of a scary guy. He could tell Light was fighting a mental war in his head on whether or not she could be trusted. Although, looking at her, Matsuda really couldn't see how such a cute girl could really be a threat.

Though her back was to him, he noticed she remained unmoving, most likely meeting his gaze. He was surprised, honestly. Not many people (and that definitely included him), could hold a staring contest with Light. He always assumed they were intimidated by the gap in pure intellect, and he was, honestly, always sort of jealous of it. But she seemed to have a certain aura of her own, as if she always had somewhere else she'd rather be, and constantly running out of time to get there. She looked as though she missed someone, in his opinion. Although, if he had to be with Misa 24/7, he'd probably miss the company of someone else a lot too. No offence to Misa, she was a really nice and loyal girl, its just she was a bit… out there.

Regardless, CL had an odd trait, but Matsuda had decided he liked that she wasn't so high maintenance or uptight about things the way the rest of the task force always were. Like they'd forgotten how to relax. Although, with how things were going now, Mello's escape, L's death years back… It had taken a toll on all of them. Even Matsuda.

Light broke the eye contact after a while, and quickly regained his "leader" posture (another trait Matsuda was jealous of), and spoke in a stern voice.

"Well, we had someone overlook your file, of course, and everything seems to work out. Please do your best to protect Misa… she means very much to me." He said with undeniable concern and certainty. It amazed Matsuda, sometimes, just how dedicated the two of them were to their relationship, even at such a young age.

CL gave a quaint little bow and replied,

"I'll protect her with my life, Light Yagami."

…,,,…

After the awkward introductions, and much of Misa's pleading, CL was allowed to sit within the same room as them, to Light's slight dismay. Misa sat next to her, constantly fussing and reassuring that task force was just uptight due to recent events and "still recovering". By "recent events", Matsuda knew she was talking about the incident with Mello, the kidnapping of Sayu Yagami, and the death of the chief of police, Soichiro Yagami. All within such a short period of time… They hadn't faced a setback like this one since L's death roughly four years ago. They were all crushing blows, but it just strengthened their resolve to catch Kira. Though most of the task members were more so focused on a much different target. The ultimate reason Soichiro Yagami was dead, the guy who went by the alias of Mello.

Matsuda himself had quite a lot of anger built up inside him against this man… if he was even old enough to be considered a man, Matsuda had really no idea. Regardless of his youth, he had no right to kidnap a helpless, utterly innocent girl, and get a man who had done nothing but good deeds killed. He was the most righteous man Matsuda had even known, and probably come to know, and now he was dead. _Because of him._

Although Matsuda tried his best never to focus on anger too much, he couldn't help but have this burning desire to punch whoever this guy was right in the jaw, put him in handcuffs, and have him locked up for the rest of his miserable days. He thought back to when they were all in that disgusting hideout back in L.A., geared up and armed, ready to fire. Prepared to fight. Of course, he had come across many on his way there. Many who had perished… But one stuck out in his mind in particular… he didn't wear the grimy clothes the others did, his hair was shorter than more of theirs, and from what very little he could see, he had no tattoos. He was running with strange black shape looped in one arm, which he guessed was another person, but all he could see was their black jacket. Or was it a trench coat? Anyways, Matsuda had fired at him, but he seemed to know it was coming and glided out of the way before he could even pull the trigger. He had giving him such a strange smile… like one belonging to the chesire cat as he passed by.

He looked back over at CL, who was looking interested (or more so _trying _to look interested) in Misa's current one sided conversation. He studied her carefully, trying hard not to be caught by the others. He'd spent too many years being laughed at by the other members to be caught ogling at some girl. He hated for Misa to say something funny or amusing… and then she laughed, and CL smiled at her giggling, and he saw it. It was the same look he'd seen on the man from the hideout, bright, trusting, but completely fake. There was no way, of course, that this could mean anything. After all, from what he'd caught of the man, and what she looked like in front of him, the two looked nothing alike.

It was just a coincidence, he decided, but he kept that thought locked tight in his mind… just in case.

In the end, when it was all said and done, he'd be glad he did, too.

…,,,…

CL waited an hour or so after Misa fell asleep in her room to peel her sweaty thighs off of the couch and gently begin padding to the kitchen. As her "personal bodyguard", she had to stay by her side at all times, especially after dark. Even though Misa insisted that she could have another mattress brought in or for her to even sleep with her, CL had politely declined and chose to crash on the couch. Although it was uncomfortable with how hot the house seemed to be even during the night, it'd be much easier to do it this way then to have to carefully slip out of the same bed without disturbing Misa. Despite her being a relatively heavy sleeper, CL was no acrobat.

In the kitchen she made her way to one of the junk drawers, and pulled out a cell phone. She had planted it there when she came to visit- err, break in, truthfully, a couple of nights before. Matt was able to ensure that there weren't any hidden cameras planted about the house, so it was relatively easy.

Mello had told her to call him as soon as she got the chance, and she hoped when she called him at about 1 a.m. he wouldn't be sleeping. Hell hath no fury like a disturbed Mello.

However, just in case Misa did wake up and went to look for her, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter she had brought with her and went out onto the porch. CL didn't smoke, Auguste would never let her. It'd fuck up her lungs, and hinder her breathing. Things she already knew being friends with Matt, but she usually tried her best not to rebel against his 'wisdom'. As he so righteously called it.

Reluctantly she flipped open the old cell phone and called the only number she had on speed dial, and placed it up to her ear. Surprisingly, after two prompt rings, he had picked up. This could either be very good, or very, very bad.

"Is she asleep?" His voice sounded slightly fatigued, but not as if he'd been sleeping before she called. Which she didn't necessarily like.

"Obviously." CL replied, her own voice sounding light and airy, as though she could fall asleep at any minute.

"Good… " He said, firm. Then there was about a minute or so of complete silence. It wasn't awkward, they weren't racking their brains to try to figure out something to spark a conversation. They didn't hang up, either, though. CL wondered, in the back of her mind, just why exactly he had asked her to call him immediately if he had nothing to say to her when she did. He may be swayed by his emotions, but he really could be almost too careful sometimes. After she was just about to let him know she'd be hanging up and going to bed, or, more so, couch, he spoke again.

"I appreciate you doing this, you know. I could've had someone else doing this for me, but its probably better this way." Needless to say, she was taken aback by his sudden statement. That had been completely unexpected, and completely out of character… and for some reason, it made her kind of angry. She decided not to reply to that, and to her even greater astonishment, he kept going.

"Its not just this, though. I… appreciate what you did back at the base, and I'm sorry I almost got you killed. I know you don't deserve it, well, given your profession you probably do, but knowing you personally I've decided what I did back there was fucked up. Necessary, but fucked up. So, I'm sorry for that, I guess. Anyways, make absolutely sure you keep me posted at all times. Hell, I don't care if you have to call me every day. This can't go wrong… I'll meet up with you every once in a while, so call me whenever you feel an opportunity arises." He finished, and for a while she didn't know what to say. She was still reeling from his sudden apology. _Apology._

"…You didn't have to apologize…" She said, her voice small. The last thing she wanted to do was anger him after he'd been unusually nice to her.

"No, I did… trust me." He replied, quickly and firmly, and yet again she had nothing to say. There was something off.

"…What are you planning?" She demanded, her voice now much sharper. The man on the other line had to confess she was even more cunning than she had been beforehand. Or maybe just more paranoid.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just-" He started, but she quickly cut him off.

"_I'll_ be fine? What, just me? Am I your damsel in distress?" She wanted to shout, but was careful to not raise her voice too much in fear of waking her own blonde princess.

"We'll _all _be fine. All of us. Even me. Just stick to the plan and stop starting arguments." She was about to retaliate, but stopped herself. There was no guarantee that Misa would be able to hear her even if she screamed at the top of her lungs, but she wasn't about to take that chance.

"I have to sleep. And by the sound of things, you do too. I'll call you tomorrow night too… and I'll try to do it a little earlier." She said, defeated by her own grogginess and fear of waking her client. She could hear Mello sigh on the opposite end.

"Yeah, sure…" _I wish I could drag you back to my bed again,_ he thought. And apparently, he had thought it out loud.

"I'll let you drag me back to your bed every night once this is over." She replied, jokingly, of course, and she laughed when she heard a brisk silence fall over the man on the other line.

"Tsk tsk…" He muttered, and promptly hung up.

Of course, he had not meant it the way she had replied with. Never. But he did, indeed, literally drag her from the couch to his room every once in a while. Although it was getting to be almost every night, before she went with Misa. She would always fall asleep on the couch, which was somehow comfortable after all of the use, and he'd come up to her and roughly drag her by her feet across the carpeted floor. She'd wake up almost every time, but did little to stop it, even thought he could really cause some rug burn if he wanted to. Then he'd toss her on the bed, and tackle her and hold her so tightly she'd be unable to move.

She found the couch more pleasant… although now, she did kind of miss it. Despite their constant bickering, this one night apart had a much bigger impact on her than she'd originally expected.

But still… she couldn't shake the feeling that he had something planned, something she wouldn't approve of at all.

…,,,…

Hello again, and thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited. It means a lot!


	18. Chapter 18: Video Games

"Can you believe her!?" Amane Misa proclaimed, overcome with her anger, as she continued her seemingly hour long rant to her blonde associate. After a moment of staring at her expectantly CL finally realized she should probably say something.

"…Unbelievable." She replied, and it seemed to be the response Misa was looking for.

"I just want him all to myself… we've been dating for so long now… is it really that much to ask for?!" She continued, with a hint of defeat now present in her voice. She sighed, before getting up and leaving the room. CL, currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, could hear clattering and clinking sounds from within the kitchen. Misa returned not much longer later.

When she returned, her one hand contained a bottle of seemingly expensive red wine, the other had two drinking glasses. She offered one to CL, who found herself in a rather odd and unfamiliar situation. Auguste never drank more than one glass, and that was usually only if he had to, such as in a disguise. He had taught her to never submit herself to alcohol or cigarettes, and if he found her involved with any kind of drugs she'd have to sleep outside. CL, who grew up in quite a clean establishment, hated bugs with a passion, so this was no option.

"I'm sorry, Misa, but if I were to lose you while under the influence of alcohol I'd never forgive myself… I'll have to, with all due respect, decline." She said, afraid that perhaps she had hurt her, and in such a fragile state. Misa, to her surprise, gave her a hearty laugh.

"Oh CL, its like you're too good to be true!" she said, taking a big gulp of her already half full glass of wine.

"Sometimes its like you care about me more than Light!" she giggled, before realizing the amplification of her statement. She gasped.

"Please don't tell him I said that! He'll be heartbroken! I didn't mean it!... I think…" Misa trailed off, looking ashamed and embarrassed of herself. CL, on the other hand, had to hold back a laugh. It was almost sad that this girl was completely unable to bring herself to realize that Light Yagami's one true love would forever be himself. No amount of wedding rings would change that.

"I won't tell a soul, Misa." She replied, with as much respect she could muster. CL thought about how identical Misa, now in her drunken, disheveled sate probably resembled Skyla, back when she was still alive. A devious smile came to her face as she thought her agony. _Skyla_ was the one who shot her in the leg. _Skyla_ was the one that showed her just how painful it is to have your flesh tore into by metal rocketing at inhuman speeds. _Skyla_ was the one who put her on that hospital bed, and _Skyla_ was the one who got away with it.

CL did not like to hold grudges, for people who held grudges against other people would always see them below said person, and she couldn't live with that. But she also couldn't live with the nagging feeling that she had been cheated, and so she planned. The same way Skyla planned, only more thoroughly, and just a bit more cruelly.

Skyla had managed to get someone to put a bullet through CL's leg, CL had managed to get someone to put a bullet through Skyla's skull.

She'd be the winner, forever.

But then, when she looked back at Misa, drowning her need for attention from a man who'd be forever unable to give it to her with alcohol, she saw nobody except Misa. Misa desperately needed contact from a man who desperately relented. And for some, inexplicable reason, CL resonated with that. She related to her, at this moment.

So when Misa started to whimper, and her eyes began to glaze over with a gloss of newfound realization, CL felt a pang in her heart and couldn't stop herself from picking her up from the floor and holding her tight. A sitting position she had found herself time and time again, each for a different reason, with Mello.

Misa had unleashed all of her hidden, doubtful emotions, and was sobbing and crying and moaning all over CL's shoulder. CL, of course, did not mind this. She was so used to people internalizing their emotions she had forgot how good it was to see someone cry. Not in a cruel, sadistic way, but in a way that reminded her they were human. _She _was human.

Misa, having run out of tears, and CL, who's shoulder was covered in a mess of mascara, sat in silence for a while as Misa collected herself.

"You're a good person, CL." Misa said, before crawling up to CL and gently planting a kiss on her cheek. Misa's balmy, smooth lips felt foreign to her skin, as the only person she's ever kissed before was-

"Can you do one more thing for me? Whenever I get really sad like this I like to indulge in a few sweets, ya know? Do you think you could… maybe… pick some up for me? But- oh, gosh, you've done so much for me already. How about you go treat yourself first, then pick them up on your way back home? Take as long as you'd like, you deserve it!"

…,,,..

"Yes?" Mello's voice matched his impatience as he paced back and forth in the small space he had in his apartment. It was an unusual time for her to be calling, still late, but not nearly as late as usual, and he wanted to know just how worried he should be.

"I'm coming over right now. Misa's letting me treat myself tonight, and she said how late I stay out doesn't matter. I already thought of several alibis, so **don't worry.**" She said the last part with unusual firmness, and he stopped himself from pacing and sat down on the worn down couch behind him.

"Treat yourself? What'd exactly did you do to deserve that?" He asked.

"I'm a good little maid," she said, and Mello cringed as he desperately tried to think of something _else_.

"…I'll explain more later." She hung up. Mello carelessly threw the phone on the floor waited anxiously for CL's arrival, which came about five minutes after the phone call.

There was a soft, almost inaudible knock at the door, and Mello whipped it open in 3 seconds flat.

"Hey." Her eyes, looking up at him, looked a warm gray in the terrible lighting, and he quickly grabbed her shoulder and thrust her inside.

"Why do you always-" She started, but seeing the way he looked at her, after being maybe a month apart, not counting phone calls, she stopped dead in her tracks. As if in a trance, she slowly walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and Mello immediately followed suit.

Eventually, he painfully detached her arms from his back, instantly chilled by the lack of warmth.

He was surprised to see disapprovement in her features as he did this. Certainly she knew he didn't, necessarily, want to, right?

"There are things we should go ov-" 

"Is that it? Am just a business partner to you?" she asked, not but two feet away from him. _How the hell did she come to that? _

"W-what?"

"You're not like how you were at Wammy's." Now he thought she had just gone insane. Matt was always telling him he hadn't changed at all since he turned 13. Six years later hadn't made a single difference. Mello, for once, agreed with him. And now CL says something like _that?_ Had she _forgotten_ how much of an asshole he was when he was younger, and how little that had changed?

"What do you mean?" He asked, anxious to know her answer.

"You were awful. You followed me everywhere, you breathed down my neck when it came to studying, you always berated me, you always dragged me along with you wherever you went, you used to just stare for what seemed like forever whenever we did anything. And you were selfish and spoiled yourself" At this point she sounded exhausted and desperate, but that still hadn't seemed to clear anything up for him.

Those were all things he, obviously, no longer did. Shouldn't she be happy?

"I don't do any of those things anymore! I don't know what you want from me." He said, looking down at her smaller frame. She frowned, and he knew that was the wrong answer.

"You're right. You don't do any of those things anymore… I loved every single one of those things. You showed me that you cared." Her eyes had a faraway look to them, and she avoided eye contact.

He, had absolutely no idea what to say, probably for once in his entire life. When he latched onto her elbow as she turned to leave, all he could do was stare at her and search for an answer.

"I didn't know…" She gave a small, short laugh at this. She hadn't realized how much she missed Wammy's. She missed his horrible, unapproachable attitude, and the smell of chocolate everywhere you went. The light glow from the TV screen of which Matt played his video games. The library, where they studied. Being unable to fall asleep until she felt a certain someone's presence.

"I'm sorry." He said, before picking her up with ease and setting her down on the couch, before settling down himself, halfway on top of her. Just like how they would at Wammy's. After wrestling with a few blankets the two fell still, the light glow the TV of which Matt played his video games lulling them asleep.

…,,,…

I'm so sorry for how long this took qq


End file.
